#ALL OF THE VARIANTS ARE REAL AND WILL FUCKING KILL YOU AND THOSE AROUND YOU!

[trumpetnista]

#personal #calendar post #LiveLoveWRITE #may #spring #late spring #DO YOUR BEST TO GET VACCINATED. I KNOW IT CAN BE HARD AS HELL TO GET A DOSE IN SOME AREAS. #ALL OF THE VARIANTS ARE REAL AND WILL FUCKING KILL YOU AND THOSE AROUND YOU! #DO NOT LET OTHER PEOPLE'S IDIOCY GET YOU KILLED! #LISTEN TO THE SCIENCE. #VACCINES WORK! #GET VACCINATED. #WEAR A MASK! #calender post #meme source #dank memes #vintage memes #memes make a pandemic a bit more bearable! #memes make quarantine a bit more bearable! #black tumblr #black culture #90s rap #90s kid #pop culture #wake up wake up wake up... #it's da 1st of the month... #oh hot dayum...this is my JAM! #bone thugs n harmony #gif mashups #trumpetnista

[paragonrobits]

some more fun (or, well, not so much fun as ‘horrifically depressing detail that clarifies the position of Werewolf: The Apocalypse as not solely the action-focused beatstick of World of Darkness, but a look at how part of the heroism of the Fera is them keeping up a fight they know they CAN’T win) details about the Garou (werewolves) in particular but pretty much all Fera suffer from, is a supernaturally brutal variant of depression that comes from the soul and spirit, and the wounds of the world around them

one of the most important aspects of the true werebeasts of the World of Darkness, collectively called the Fera, is that they are as much spirit-creatures as they are flesh. Just as the Garou are both wolf and men, or the Khan both tigers and humans, the Fera are in deep connection with the spirit world and all that implies; they FEEL things and it influences them, even the ones who have a harder time stepping across the barriers separating the shadow-spirit world from the material realm.

And the World of Darkness is fucked up, in many respects.

They FEEL it. When a werewolf states that something is deeply corrupted, its not a metaphor. They FEEL it; the evil done by human hands sinks deep into the world, poisoning the spirit world, lingering for an age afterwards. It may never entirely fade away. There are parts of the world where horrific atrocities have been done and those wise in the ways of the spirit insist: do NOT step sideways into the spirit world there. Do not do it; you may not come back, and you may not want to. Not because there are vile and awful spirits there, or the lingering echoes of the people who died in pain and despair (but there are plenty of both), but because to feel their pain is poison to ordinary humans alone.

Imagine what it does to beings who are intimately of all the worlds.

And so, the Fera feel the pain of the world, and it kills them. This is the sickness the Garou called Harano; a deep and horrifying form of spiritual depression, lingering from the world’s pain. It’s a little bit of guilt, for the werewolves KNOW that much of this is their fault. It’s a little bit of cosmic despair, for the Wyrm is WINNING. It wins with every single moment of indifference and apathy; it wins when horrible things happen because people turn a blind eye to suffering as long as it doesn’t affect them, and wins when awful things happen and the world just moves on, indifferent to the horrors in its wake. And it’s mostly just the perfectly mundane aspects of fighting losing battles, whether its the mundane of seeing people die and corporations prosper as the natural world the Fera care for slowly get withered away, or the people they try to protect are slowly whittled away bit by bit. It’s there for when the beasts they call kin fade away, the wolves and tigers and more faring even worse in WoD than they do in real life. One too many bad days and exhausting pyrric victories and terrible losses build up.

And somehow, some part of them dies, and they just stop.

This is Harano. More Fera succumb to this than they do to mundane injury. A werewolf may be able to shrug off all but the most vicious and powerful of weaponry, but their hearts and minds find the seeming hopelessness of their battles something you can’t heal from.

Of note, this effects the Mokole the most; the werealligators and crocodiles (and many other reptiles besides); who remember the past. They were THERE, 65 million years ago; they were there when the people before humans died. They have been there for countless eons since, watching so many things fade away and die. They carry an ancestral memory of everything an ancestor experience, and what THEIR ancestors experienced. And it is so much loss and despair.

There is a reason the advice of the Bastet when it comes to their scaled cousins is to let them lie. Brother Dragon, they say, has been through much; too much. Harano is a peril for all Fera, but it is especially terrible for the Mokole, as the ocean of despair behind them consumes them. Imagine all the most horrible things in human history, and the things that predate human history:

now imagine seeing it for yourself, and EXPERIENCING it first hand... over and over again.

#werewolf the apocalypse #world of darkness #queued

[weepingmilkshakedreamer]

AS1 dial0gue but it'z my au [Act 3 Finale]

juzt had a sudden urge 2 make act 3 rn z0 uhh yeah part 3 0f the tw0 0ther thingz i did. l0l

Guts: Guys...*gack*... I was just walking along, minding my own business, and suddenly some guy beat me with a nailed bat!

Guts: Look!

Bleed: Oh god! Why are you naked!?

Alan: Bleed, whatever the fuck happened, those wounds are hella deep! We need to operate fast!

After surgery

Guy: WHERE THE HELL IS HE? I will kill him!

Bleed: Hey! You're the guy from the warehouse! What...were YOU following Guts?

Guy: YOU'RE THE ONES WHO HAVE BEEN UNDOING ALL OF MY HARD WORK! Do you have any IDEA how hard I've been working to take those FILTHY criminals down?!

Bleed: WHAT?! You're the one going around attacking everybody! I thought it was that Penny chick!

Guy: WHO? You disgust me! But it doesn't matter - I've almost got him! I'VE BEEN WAITING SO LONG!

Bleed: Hey wait!

Alan: Bleed! That guy who was just here...

Bleed: he's the one from the warehouse! That showed up after I fixed that creepy French woman! I tried to tell you...

Alan: I know that guy Bleed... I believe it's me he's looking for. He wants to fuckin kill me.

Bleed: Wait what!? That's insane.

Alan: I'm afraid not. I killed his parents. I am a fucking murderer, Bleed!

Alan: he can explain to you himself. We are going back to the Old Hospital - MY Old Hospital... Or what's left of it anyways...

--------------------------------------------------------------

Caruthers: Hrrrruuuugh!

Caruthers: ...

Alan: Oh god...

Bleed: What? What did he say?

Alan: He said that, "The weird guy in the trench coat in the alley said we'd be here!"

Alan: "It apparently happened again! He's been poisoned! And that he doesn't wanna die!"

Caruthers: Hrrrruuuugh!

Bleed: Oh man! Hold in there Caruthers!

After surgery

Caruthers: Ugh...

Caruthers: ...

Alan: He says that, "He's grateful for the life saving operation again! And that he didn't know what happened!"

Bleed: Caruthers, have you seen a guy around here?

Caruthers: ...

Alan: He says, "No he hasn't seen a guy anywhere - but he heard the city's crime boss is plenty mad about what's been happening to everyone!"

Alan: "He's on his way right now! But he has to get out of here now! Before Bugeater Peter will get nervous!"

Alan: "And when he's nervous, he gets gassy and aggressive, in that order!"... Gross i hate that i just translated that.

--------------------------------------------------------------

William Henchman [swap variant of this guy btw]: Doctor! DOCTOR! We drove here to kill the person who's hurting all our criminals!

William: But someone cut our brakes! And then we crashed into a sewage farm! It was not fun trust me.

Alan: Bleed i doubt this will go through your fuckin walnut sized brain, but you must be very, VERY careful here. We need to treat them back to back! I shudder to think what would happen to us if one of them perished on our table...

Bleed: i completely understand what to do Alan. Now quickly then!

Alan: Oh thank god...

After surgery [on the crime boss aka Ivan]

William: Thanks for the helping my boss, doctor. Now are you gonna take out this steering wheel, yes?

Bleed: Well i mean yeah-

William: Or I'm gonna kill you soon, probably.

Bleed: Oh shit this just got real-

Alan: Yeah but anyways, quickly now! or else it's concrete boots for the both of us!

After surgery [on will]

Alan: Alright those two will sleep for a while. We must find Karl now before he gets hurt!

Bleed: Wait! But I thought he wanted to kill you?

Alan: I believe the poor guy has been driven mad with grief. If it's me he wants... Then I should speak with him.

Alan: This isn't his goddamn fault after all, Bleed...

Alan: Wait.. Who is that?

--------------------------------------------------------------

Trent: Doc... Thank goodness you're here!

Trent: I think I ate something really bad!

Trent: I mean, a guy stopped by and gave me a sandwich! he was really handsome I'll give you that... And well I was a bit hungry so ate it in kind of a hurry. But it tasted like metal! And now...

Trent: *tick tick tick*

Bleed: Oh wow... I hope to god that's a clock!

After surgery

Trent: A bomb? Oh wow - so I was nearly blowed up?

Bleed: Unfortunately yes. *shudder*. But don't touch it! We didn't quite manage to defuse it completely since I don't really know how bombs work!

Guy: So you've done it again, haven't you?

Guy: Fixed some WORTHLESS LOWLIFE criminal?

Trent: You! You was at the junkyard! You tried to kill me! You're crazy!

Guy: I'm not crazy!

Alan: Karl...

Karl: What? How do you know my name?!

Karl: Who are you?

*Trent leaves the Building*

Alan: You don't recognize me, young man? Well, maybe that's understandable. I've somewhat gone to ruin...

Alan: I am the man you're looking for that you want dead. I was the surgeon who operated on your parents.

Alan: I am so terribly sorry they died. i couldn't save them.

Alan: I understand you mean to take your vengeance. I must admit... I have thought about ending it all myself.

Alan: In fact, not too long ago I deliberately stepped out in front of a pizza van! If it weren't for this extraordinary middle aged man Here... Well...

Karl: Dr. Alan?

Alan: ...yes?

Karl: Oh doctor! I thought... But it's not you I'm looking for!

Karl: IT'S HER!

--------------------------------------------------------------

Penny: Bonjour!

Karl: YOU MURDERER!

Alan: Aureola!

Bleed: AUREOLA?! WHAT?!

Aureola: Ah, my dear sweet husband, Dr. Alan. I would ask how you are after all these years you decided to leave me in the dust... But I can see for myself now! you look disgusting.

Bleed: You used to be married to doc? YOU'RE Aureola?! I thought you said your name was Penny!

Aureola: I've been hiding in the jungle since this insane little delinquent started hunting me down. When i came back, do you really think I'd use my real, horrible name?

Karl: You animal! This bomb wasn't meant for you, But...

Bleed: No! That bomb isn't fully defused yet! DON'T-

*BOOM*

Karl: Ahhhhh!

Bleed: KARL!

After surgery

Aureola: Ah ha ha! Pathetic!

--------------------------------------------------------------

Alan: Aureola... What the hell happened to you?

Aureola: You were always so boring, Dr. Alan my dear! There is so much to be learned from the sweet kiss of the poison needle!

Aureola: But who cares! That was then, and this is now. And before I leave - a parting gift, for my dear husband!

Aureola: The same poison that did in all your precious patients!

Alan: Grooo....

Aureola: Ha! You know I could kill you too, pizza boy! But It's better to let you try to save him - and know his demise was down to the falling of your own fat fingers!

Aureola: Mwuahahahaha! MWUAHAHAHAHA! Bonne nuit!

Bleed: Doc! Hold on! She won't get away with this!

After surgery

Bleed: I- I saved them! Doc and Karl will pull through! But Penny er- Aureola got away...

--------------------------------------------------------------

Brutality: Dammit maggot! When I say "assume the position", I mean you do it now! NOW! GET ON THE FLOOR!

Aureola: Ah! Help! Help! He is crazy!

Bleed: Oh shit! Officer Brutality? What are you doing here?

Brutality: Ignacious? I should have guessed it! Reports came in that there was an explosion at the Old Hospital.

Brutality: I came running in, and found miss Nancy Fancy-pants here fleeing the scene!

Aureola: *whimper* Please - no more beatings! I had enough!

Brutality: I'LL TELL you when you've had enough!

Aureola: Ack... my stomach!

Bleed: Woah! Hey - easy! Easy! Look at that!

Brutality: What's happening to her stomach?

Bleed: Uhh one word... Bugs, probably. I don't really know! Unless... Get her on the operating table!

Aureola: Ah! Help! Officer! He wants to spoon me! AAARRGH!

Bleed: (what the hell...?)

After surgery

Bleed: Oh wow! I guess I didn't kill all those weird bugs in her after all. Actually, that was a pretty big one to miss!

Brutality: So, Ignacious... Care to tell me what's going on? You find out who was behind all the attacks?

Bleed: (Karl... But none of this was really his fault, even if he did go off the rails a bit! Plus he's hot!)

Bleed: Uh officer, I think I can say this with a clear conscience that Penny d'Obscene - a.k.a Aureola née Svelte - is the girl ultimately responsible for all your injured criminals!

Bleed: And if you could, you know reopen the file on the deaths at the Old Hospital? I think you'll find there's new evidence to clear Dr. Alan...

Brutality: Son, when you helped me, you pulled the proverbial thorn from the lions paw. And by "thorn", I mean "handcuffs". And by "lions paw", I mea-

Bleed: Yep I remember!

Brutality: Point is - I'm going to help you out. And i reckon I've got a special punishment in mind that should be right up Miss Née Svelte's alley!

--------------------------------------------------------------

yeah I'm finished with this thing finally, but let'z juzt zay the zt0ry 0f ignaci0uz bleed had 0nly juzt begun... /ref and well I might d0 the secret filez az a b0nuz t0 thiz thing z00n. l0l

#amateur surgeon #fan au #role swap au #adult swim #character dialogue #dialogue only #bit of a long post #long post #creative writing #part 3 of 3 #Alan is less of an asshole here. #but aureola is the mega bitch here. lol

[buckmepapi]

I saw Doctor Strange and The Multiverse of Madness yesterday so spoiler warning, I’m gonna give my opinion below under the cut.

Like serious spoiler warning I’m going to be talking about specific things, so if you still moan after these warnings you can eat a bag of multidimensional hairy dicks

What the fuck was that ?

Honestly. I hate to say it because I’m a marvel ass-licker and I hate admitting anything my autistic special interest does is bad, and it wasn’t, but I’m kinda on the fence about whether I loved it or hated it - I’m gonna watch it again in a few days to really take it in properly the second time around.

But one thing I am annoyed about is how the fuck you can say you have The Illumanti and have pretty much all the OG members and not Namor ????? WHEREMST THE FUCK IS ME SWEET ANGSTY SUB MARINER BOI?!

That really annoyed me lol

I’ve never been a fan of Raimi’s spiderman films, like I think tobey is a great actor, but I think those films are objectively not good. Don’t get me wrong, I still like them, it’s nostalgic and it’s fun and silly, but from a movie watching point of view it’s cringe, shit acting, bad and lazy writing, poor cgi, and all around cheesy.

But I have a love / hate relationship with those moviee so it’s hard to give a definitive answer.

Raimi definitely channeled all that cheesy cringe action shots / scene transitions and cheesy lines into this movie but I guess it kinda made it great though because it captures how zany and cheesy and ridiculous doctor strange comics are (and the classic og marvel comics in general) ,,, so I do kind of hate it and love it in that regard also - it’s probably because I was not expecting that type of style for a marvel film so it’s just taken me aback. I think once I watch it again in a few days I’ll love it Lmao

Right so all that out of the way , those fucking horror scenes and all the other spooky elements *chef kiss* very scary and very unnerving and fucking badass very cool MWAH

Honest to god the horror elements and references were super cool and flowed nicely.

The unexpected deaths was fucking ace, I love when movies do that bc it’s so out of left field, it’s very Deadpool 2 x force-esque and I loved it.

Idk if y’all have ever read Deadpool Kills The Marvel Universe but it gave me those vibes, if you read it you’ll know what I mean

Especially the scene where professor x is in Wanda’s mind, there was a moment where it looked like he was looking directly to the camera and I thought for a brief fleeting moment they were going to have him look into the camera, go wide eyed and say “oh” before having his brain completely melt - which is professor x’s death in the Deadpool comic I mentioned, it just really reminded me of it and with Xavier being in Wanda’s mind at the time I thought maybe reading her mind or seeing how self aware she was would cause his brain to implode with the knowledge that none of his world was real a La Deadpool kills the mcu

This film though did feel disappointing. I don’t think this will be the last of the multiverse concept in marvel obviously, but it felt wrong to have the first introduction into different universes and their hero’s variants be only 2 hours long, it felt like it should have been more of a Zack Snyder feature length film

There was no mention of loki and kang and their timeline issues - which you’d think would have been in the film

You’d also have thought with multiverses and such opening up that all 3 spidey boys would be back as well but nah - so that was weird too

Kang is literally related to Reed Richards so he is one of the most intelligent human beings there is, he is one of the biggest threats to the timeline the mcu has but I guess the mf must have been on vacation

Also are you telling me that one of the universes most intelligent men, the man responsible for creating the COUNCIL OF REEDS was fucking dumb enough to say oh yeah black bolt can kill you by opening his mouth , like bro why did you not just shut the fuck up HAHA

But then again the death scenes were so fucking awesome

I guess the film is a 7/7.5 out of 10

I think the horror sequences bumped up those scores for me tho. I deffo have more to say but I’m probably forgetting a lot of stuff so I’ll be back with more to say once I’ve watched it again 😎

#𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓻 ╰✧ #spoilers #spoiler #doctor strange mom #doctor strange 2 #doctor strange spoilers #doctor strange multiverse of madness #multiverse of madness spoilers #multiverse of madness #marvel #mcu #buckmepapi #k; #personal

[veangeanceawaits]

I've decided I'll make this little account that nobody really sees into my own little went page. I don't think anybody I know will find me here. So, I think I'll address this to you, reader, whom I call Mia (I don't think anyone will actually read this, but it feels better than writing to no one, i guess).

So, hello! My name is Leti. With only one 't', please. I hate the double syllable variant, Letty or Lettie sounds really girlish to me yk.

I am half a year away from being twenty yo, and going to college to study english and all that. I am a pretty average person I think, even though I really, really hope I am not. I wish not to be. Normal people seem really weird to me, and it's so hard to be myself often, I just accept the situation and move on. I always saw the world in kind of my own way, dressed different, behaved odd, looked different from everybody. There were very few people I knew, who were similar to me. And even then I think I assimilated into situations. My mother always told me it'll pass, it's a phase and so on. I guess mom it wasn't. I found out I had ADHD not too long ago. I guess I really was an odd one. At least now I can justify it somewhat. I hope at least. I still feel incomplete though, as if a piece was missing, and I'm tired of comparing puzzle pieces. I can't cry anymore, I desire to hurt people around me in by-me-justified situations. And it's getting harder and harder by the minute to reign it in. To control that stress, frustration and bitter tears mixed with burning anger. I desire to yell. Yell my story with all to see.

Mia, I am a child of disfunctional family. I was first, then eleven or so years later came my sister. I just kept to myself most of the time. I was used sexually for a while, by two people, by a girlfried and a cousin while we were kids. I really couldn't say no, I am afraid that in a twisted way I might've even enjoyed it. Although it left me with scars I wish to carve into my own skin so people notice me sometimes. Along with so much more. Maybe you've guessed by now, or not, me and my mom aren't besties. She'd done many things that hurt me so much. I'll always have those feelings with me, somewhere in me. Deep, very very deep. On night's like these they come to haunt me like ghost's. I never really enjoyed living life, I had my world though. Inside my mind I made a place where I felt safe. I read books and lived the stories. Where people cared about me, where nothing was so hard anymore. Where I could fly if I wanted, I could fuck whomever I want. I could replay movies, books, I could kill, torture or exert my power and reign. I could really do everything, I could explore like Lara from Tomb raider. Whatever I saw and liked or thought up I could do. It was my escape, it was me. I spent days laying in bed being there, in class, during exams, during conversations. I lived there more than in the real world. Sometimes I wished that I would wake up there, with my lover or lovers waiting for me right by my side. Their hugs and love felt always more real than anything.

I wished I would go there after death, away from everybody else. I became distant and just suffered trough social events or conversations because I had the vision of going there. I wrote books, I tinkered too sometime, but most of the time I dreamt.

Years passed, and then I was leaving town to go to high school, things changed. I couldn't keep friends. They didn't really interest me, I could talk with them, but after a while I got tired and left them there. Changed person. I had better. And I became an always sour looking loner. Stuck in my own head. Time went on, and I was unhappy, with my appearance, myself, friends whatever came to mind. I never really understood my own or anybodies emotions. They seemed strange and weird, and I just couldn't get my head around them. I always felt that when I'm angry or sad somebody did something wrong to me. Or something like that. I just can't get them. Still can't. They're odd and yucky. Ew.

I found my first love then, first kisses, feelings everywhere, I knew it was trouble from the start. It was bliss regardless. The first time someone wamted little ol' me. I was over the moon, head over heels for her, but maybe for that feeling of being wanted too. I wasn't the best, I was seventeen and kinda dumb, she was eighteen and the same really. She was toxic and I was avoidant. Terrific combination, I think. So one may morning we bid each other goodbye. I feared her for a time. I couldn't look at her. Or be in her vicinity. I was avoidant, yet again. Shw scared me honestly. But then she left, and I hope I'll never see her again, but I hope she's alright and happy though.

I was broken after it ended, it shook me to my core, Alex came in picture a girl I met on tik tok. Sweet girl really, I overburdened ber with all my shite and then left her hanging when we both found other people. I really hope she's happy.

Then I found her. Simon or Simone? I have no idea how it is spelled. She felt like fresh breath, after a month we were together. A year and a few month went by living, drinking, smoking, loving, crying, lauging. And now I'm here. Trying to put myself together before graduation, and it's kinda not working, I guess. I am just absolutely tired and done with this. And I needed to calmdown really bad from my desire to cry or hurt people or both. So thank you Mia, thank you so much.

Good night!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Bill Gates will kill us all

2.5b people in Earth's 130 poorest countries have not been vaccinated. The 85 poorest countries won't be vaccinated until 2023. The humanitarian cost is unforgivable - and self-defeating, as each infected person is a potential source of new strains.

https://www.who.int/director-general/speeches/detail/who-director-general-s-opening-remarks-at-the-media-briefing-on-covid-19-5-february-2021

How the actual fuck did this happen?

What happened to the early pledges by governments, the WHO, public health experts and leading research institutions to create global cooperation in vaccine development, eschewing patents and secrecy so that we could rescue our species?

That dream was smashed.

Many people helped create our vaccine apartheid, the single individual who did the most to get us here is Bill Gates, through his highly ideological "philanthropic" foundation, which exists to push his pitiless doctrine of unfettered monopoly.

It was Gates who sabotaged the WHO Covid-19 Technology Access Pool (C-TAP), replacing it with his failed ACT-Accelerator, a system of patents and secrecy and vast profits for the pharma industry, ornamented with nonbinding, failed promises of access for poor nations.

It was Gates who convinced Oxford to renege on its promise of patent-free access to its publicly funded vaccine research for the global south in favor of exclusive patent access for Astrazeneca.

https://khn.org/news/rather-than-give-away-its-covid-vaccine-oxford-makes-a-deal-with-drugmaker/

When we hear ghoul sellouts like Howard Dean pushing the racist, genocidal lie that "patents don't matter" because brown people in poor countries can't make vaccines, we're hearing Gates's talking points:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/08/howard-dino/#the-scream

Gates's role in vaccine apartheid is laid out in exquisite detail in Alexander Zaitchik's outstanding New Republic feature, which delves into Gates's longstanding project to sideline democratic governments and cooperation in favor of monopoly tyranny.

https://newrepublic.com/article/162000/bill-gates-impeded-global-access-covid-vaccines

This goes way, way back. I mean, *waaaay* back, all the way to 1976, when Gates wrote his infamous "Open Letter to Hobbyists," decrying the dominant, cooperative mode of software development and calling its practitioners thieves.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Open_Letter_to_Hobbyists

Gates's fortune depended on creating a software monopoly, and that monopoly required "intellectual property" protection. Gates has always been a monopolist, and so naturally, he loves IP (before "IP" was a common term, copyrights and patents were called "monopolies").

Intellectual property is a very important part of the inequality story, the story of how we got to a world where billions of people are denied vaccines and where all people face new, more virulent strains as a result.

As UNCTAD chief economist Richard Kozul-Wright told Lynn Fries for GPE: "[IP allows companies] to grab a larger share of what has already been produced in the economy."

It's a means of extracting rents, not for doing things, but for OWNING things.

IP is key to tax avoidance: companies like Ikea transfer "IP" (the Ikea trademark) to a numbered company in a tax haven; each national Ikea subsidiary pays "licensing fees" for the trademark equal to 100% of their in-country profits, so they never earn a (taxable) cent.

The transformation of the world into a monopolized system of IP-heavy, rent-extracting, tax-dodging companies really kicked into gear after 1999, with the signing of the WTO agreement and its IP adjunct, the TRIPPS, and as Zaitchik details, Gates was instrumental there.

For this part of the story, Zaitchik talks to Jamie Love, who was at the UN when NGOs like his were pushing to create vaccine and other pharma pools for the global south, while pharma companies handed out pamphlets bearing the Gates Foundation logo, smearing the plan.

Though the US delegation struggled for credibility, the combination of the Gates Foundation, and former US trade officials fronting for  the global pharma industry managed to sideline the project, which was being driven by the demand for equitable access to AIDS drugs.

With Gates's help, the WTO emerged as an IP enforcement powerhouse. Zaitchik cites Dylan Mohan Gray: "it took Washington 40 years to threaten apartheid South Africa with sanctions and less than four to threaten the post-apartheid Mandela government over AIDS drugs."

Incredibly, the Gates Foundation used this to burnish its humanitarian image: they solicited donations from pharma companies and used them to subsidize AIDS drugs in the global south, a maneuver that let them seem like philanthropists.

When in reality, they had overseen a program to systematically deny the world's poorest and most threatened people the right to make their own drugs, making them dependent on the whims of multinational corporate charity instead.

Sound familiar? Today, Gates runs around repeating the lie that poor people can't make their own medicine,  saying that patent exemptions won't make a difference now - to the extent he's right, the world *now* is the crucial one.

Having sabotaged the efforts by poor countries to engage in the kind of production ramp-up the rich world saw as vaccines were being developed, it may *now* be too late. "Because of my bad ideas *then*, it's too late *now*."

The connection between IP and elite philanthropy is deep and important. IP's rent-seeking and tax-dodging has made poor countries beholden to offshore monopolists in health, agriculture and IT, and then starved them of taxes to build up domestic alternatives.

This, in turn, makes them dependent on "gifts" from the billionaires who arm-twisted them into IP treaties, forced them to pay rent on all domestic production, and then profit-shifted the funds out of the reach of their tax-collectors.

As Anand Giridharadas reminded us in his seminal "Winners Take All," the core purpose of elite philanthropy has been the same since the robber-baron era: to burnish the reputations of monsters who take everything and give back crumbs.

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/11/10/winners-take-all-modern-philanthropy-means-that-giving-some-away-is-more-important-than-how-you-got-it/

Reading Jamie Love's quotes in Zaitchik's article reminded me of my own time working with Jamie and Knowledge Ecology International at WIPO in Geneva, when I was an NGO delegate to a global DRM treaty.

You see, at WIPO, the vast majority of NGOs aren't human rights organizations or other public interest groups - they're industry associations representing tech, entertainment, broadcast and pharma monopolists.

These guys - almost all guys - were just aghast when real NGOs started showing up for these meetings and were absolutely shameless in their sabotage of our efforts to balance their corporate lies (absolutely bald-faced lies were routinely entered into the debates).

How petty? Well, they had been accustomed to writing up "fact-sheets" for the day's debate and handing them off to WIPO staffers working for the secretariat, who would photocopy them and set them out on literature tables for the national delegates.

So we started doing this too: we'd take careful notes on the day's debates, convene with global experts to debunk industry association lies, get our Indymedia friends to translate them into six languages, and hand them off to the secretariat in the morning for copying.

So they got the secretariat - a former US textiles negotiator who made her bones helping create the conditions for slave labor in places like Bangladesh - to end the practice of photocopying papers for all NGOs.

Of course the industry bodies had cushy offices in Geneva, whereas we stayed in flophouses and youth hostels. They could ask their underlings to come in early and do their copying for them, whereas we had to take a bus to the all-night copy-shop to get our handouts copied.

Here's where it gets super-weird: our handouts started to go missing. We'd set out our stacks of paper on the literature tables before the morning session and an hour later, they'd all be gone, but none of the delegates had managed to get a copy.

We found those missing handouts...in the garbage, behind potted plants and in the *toilets*.

No, seriously.

And here's the kicker: during the ensuing furore, the main response from the pharma lobbyists was to object to us calling ourselves "public interest NGOs."

I'll never forget this smarmy sociopath in his expensive suit, with his shit-eating grin, standing there saying, "Phamaceuticals serve the public interest, and our industry association is a nonprofit. We are a non-profit, public-interest NGO."

It was a remarkable sight. 20 years later, their version of the public interest - the doctrine of Gates - has produced a multi-billion-person reservoir of the sick and vulnerable who are doomed to serve as factories for highly virulent variants.

This is a literally genocidal doctrine, and it threatens our very civilization. It's a funny kind of non-profit, public interest move for an industry and its billionaire ideologue funders to have made.

But hey, at least no one's "intellectual property" took a hit.

#pluralistic

[liz-allyn]

shudder; part 6/6 [agent mobius x reader]

Series Summary: Pre-Loki series. You are one of the most dangerous variants the TVA has ever recovered, but Mobius knows what makes you tick. Five times he made you shudder, and the one time you returned the favor.

Words: 4.4k

Chapter Warnings/Tags: smut, language, soft daddy kink, sex in otherwise unsanitary conditions, writer's horribly pathetic attempt at dirty talk

A/N: Here it is guys. I struggled with this chapter a lot, also mad respect for gn!writers. I don't think I succeeded in keeping it neutral (welcoming feedback on how I can improve) so I removed that tag.

You watched a small fire crackle in the darkness of an elevator shaft, being used as a chimney. Rain spilled down the walls, running over old steel and concrete, but at least you were no longer in it.

Once you had had the strength to move off the beach, you found a footpath scaling up the face of the cliff which led to an abandoned mining post.

The population of Olympus-V had steady decline for decades, either by migration, poverty, or famine. The planet had been practically barren for years, save for some mining operations to squeeze the last of the planet’s natural resources.

It was in one of those posts where you were now taking refuge with Mobius. You sat on the ground near the elevator shaft, your clothes still soaked, while Mobius fiddled around with building a fire. You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself and tried to keep your teeth from chattering.

“You know how many centuries it took early man on Earth to figure out fire?” Mobius mused as he tended to the flames. “I mean, it’s not a competition or anything, but other civilizations had it down in like a few decades, max.”

You rolled your eyes miserably. “I got him killed, you know,” you replied, not having the energy to follow Mobius into another one of his “fun-facts-about-history” rabbit holes. You’d been quiet for a while, with Mobius having to hold both ends of the conversation. The grim tone in your voice gave him pause.

“The new guy,” you clarified, your tone flat as you spoke of your deceased partner. The last time you and Mobius had spoken, he had sang his praises. “It was only our fourth mission together and he’s dead. Because of me.”

Mobius sighed and turned away from you, “That’s one interpretation.” He dropped another piece of coal into the flame and came to a stand. “Or,” he added, “you could say he was a great analyst who made rational, competent choices and was working with the best data he had. The fact that he trusted you doesn’t make him any less responsible for the outcome.”

He idly wiped his hands on his pants, carrying on and providing no harbor for your self-pity, “I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

“No. You wouldn’t.” Your tone was icy. “Because you weren’t there.” You glared at him from across the smallish room you were huddled in, bitterness souring your voice. “You sent me away, remember?”

He let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his head slightly. “I had no other choice,” he parroted the same old response.

That wasn’t an answer that satisfied you. At all.

“Why?” you bit back with a mocking tone, coming to a quick stand. You pulled no punches. “Because the TVA told you to? Because if the Time Lords—”

“—Time Keepers—”

“—Time Fascists,” you hissed, “think that I have a crush on you, they'll zap me out of my useless existence?”

He glanced over at you, smirking with his head tilted slightly. He replied with a voice as sweet as caramel, “Are you saying you have a crush on me?”

Your shoulders dropped. “You’re insufferable.” You turned away, wishing you could find a different mine.

“Hey, considering my recent valiant and heroic efforts to rescue you,” he replied, “you’d think you’d be a little nicer to me.” You let out an exhausted sigh, but he kept going - cool as a cucumber. “I thought we had a thing going there. I mean - first, you kiss me—”

You spun on your heel. “Kiss you!?” you scoffed.

“Yeah,” he drawled. “On the beach.”

“I was resuscitating you!” you argued. “You call that a kiss?”

He shrugged innocently, a sparkle in his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything,” he responded matter-of-factly. “But, uh, yeah - it was a little underwhelming.”

He grinned slyly. You wanted to simultaneously melt into him and burn him alive. You scoffed, shaking your head incredulously.

“What was the point?” you exclaimed. “What’s the point of rescuing me if I’m nothing but a - a tool? A blunt hammer for the TVA to snuff out anyone that steps out of line?”

The pain in your voice was unmistakable, and Mobius dropped his playful banter.

“You think I’ve enjoyed spending the last - however long it's been - hopping around the timeline hunting people who are no different than me?” Your heart ached with every word, “You think I enjoy killing?”

“No,” he answered, weighed with guilt, “I don’t.”

Your rage flared. “Then why won’t you just let me go!?”

“I can’t,” he quietly explained, eyes cast down. He wouldn’t even look at you.

Fuck this infuriatingly charming, cowardly little TVA sheep-whore.

You felt the venom pooling on your tongue. “God! You’re such a company man, aren’t y—”

“I can’t!” he raised his voice in a way that you’d never heard before, stunning you into silence. He lifted his gaze and looked at you solemnly, his expression filled with regret. His words were weak, broken - barely above a whisper. “...Let you go.”

You stared blankly at him, reading the tragedy written on his features. With his defenses down, you could clearly see every word: I don’t want to let you go. I need you, forever. You are mine and I am yours and nothing else makes sense beyond that. I’d do anything to keep you safe.

Were those his thoughts, or yours? You didn’t know anymore.

Mobius reached up quickly and loosened his tie, before deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt.

You were staring like a deer in the headlights. “Wha-Wai-what are you doing?” you blurted uncomfortably with a furrowed brow.

He rolled his eyes. “Not catching hypothermia, if that’s alright with you,” he snarkily said as he pulled off his jacket and shirt, revealing a soaked white undershirt beneath. You remembered that you both were freezing and wet. “I’m drying my clothes by the fire. We still have 10 hours and 23 minutes until we hit the radiation peak.”

Ah yes, you had almost forgotten.

Ten hours until the end of the world, or at least of Olympus-V. And because Mobius’ TempPad was unbelievably conveniently out of juice, and unable to open another Time Door, you were pretty sure you had about the same amount of time left to exist.

Mobius confidently felt otherwise. He rattled on some jargon about needing a massive source of energy to power the TempPad - something about electromagnetic waves, solar bursts, radiation of a dying star, the “sweet spot” between a steady charge and a gruesome death. You honestly stopped listening back at the beach.

You were too busy questioning his motives and your own. Were you happy that Mobius was trapped with you, about to be swallowed by the sun? Or were you furious that he idiotically ran right into an apocalypse and now you both were going to die.

He quipped that at least that technically made him a hero; maybe he’d get a plaque in the TVA cafeteria. You would’ve made some kind of cheeky comeback, but you were already dying inside at that devastating thought.

“Not to be too forward, but you should probably do the same,” Mobius added, bringing you back to the present situation where he was undressing in front of you. “You’re shaking like a chihuahua right now.”

You were about to question the puzzling thought of him being in a place in time to observe a chihuahua, but then he pulled his wet t-shirt over his head. You turned your gaze away reflexively as soon as you spotted human flesh.

Here you were - former soldier, mercenary, and spy, and fearsome hunter of the Time Variance Authority - blushing like a shrinking violet. It’s not that he didn’t have a point, it was just--fuck, he’s undoing his belt— is this real life right now?

“Don’t worry,” he scoffed flippantly. “I’ll even turn my back to preserve your innocence and sanctity.”

He was being facetious but it made you wonder if he had any idea how un-sanctified you were. Your eyes widened at the thought: Did he watch that on the highlight reel too?

Now he was pulling his slacks off, and you were tracking in real time again. He kept his promise and had his back to you, allowing you the privacy to undress. And you did.

You peaked over your shoulder to see him lay his clothes out in front of the flames. He dragged over an old canvas tarp he’d found - pieces of which he’d stripped off for kindling - and moved it to a safe proximity from the fire. He sat down in the middle of the tarp, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around him.

And he kept his underwear on - boxer briefs, you’d called it - not that you were trying to look below his waist or anything.

Once he was at rest, he rubbed his hands over his bare arms to create friction. You mirrored his steps one-by-one, until you were also sitting in your underwear on the canvas with your bare backs inches apart.

You both were quiet for a long time, facing opposite directions, surrounded by the cold darkness, and the sound of trickling water. You could still hear the waves thrashing and the rain bartering on the rocks outside. The crackle of the fire - the way the flame danced and dimly lit your surroundings, brought you a sense of peace. It was almost... romantic. Even if it was the end of the world.

“I know this is my fault,” Mobius declared, breaking the silence. You could hear struggle in his voice. “I know I was supposed to stay within my lane. My purpose is to preserve and protect the timeline, and that’s it, it’s just....” He sighed, and you listened carefully, hanging on his words. Was this doubt?

It sounded like he was trying to understand himself. “Something’s different now,” he explained, with a little bit of wonder and fear. “When we’re together, I feel… like I’m someone else. And I’m not who I was before. Before you.”

You quietly listened, thinking about how much you identified with what he was saying.

“My head is telling me it’s all wrong,” he said, “that I’m making a mistake. That I’m playing with fire.” His next thoughts brought the tiniest grin to his otherwise grim voice. “When I’m with you… I feel like a dope… Reckless.” The smile faded as his thoughts sobered him. “Dangerous.”

In the silence that followed, you wondered again whose thoughts you were hearing - his or yours.

“How can something that feels so right be wrong?” he mused openly - for you, the Time Keepers, and all the Sacred Timeline - to hear.

The question that hung heavy in the air had such a clear answer, of which you were certain. Your mind raced trying to think of how to respond, how to explain. You simply couldn’t find the words.

So you turned your body towards him. You reached over Mobius’ shoulder gently to cup the side of his face, and pulled him into a kiss.

It was slow and chaste, projecting every intention and emotion that you lacked the words to describe. Each time you moved your lips, you took another breath; you wrote another line of your love letter to him. He sank deeper into your kiss, as your souls tangled and caught fire.

And then you felt it.

You were positioned behind him, with his back to your chest when a burst of lightning crawled up his spine. A desperate shudder racked his body. He pulled away from you breathlessly, his eyes closed, as you both panted and glowed with the heat of the moment.

“If I didn’t know any better,” your lips curled into a sultry smile, “I’d say I was making you nervous.”

He opened his dark bronze eyes at that, drinking you in. He couldn’t help but mirror your mischievous smirk. In an instant, he snatched you up and pulled you onto his lap. You kissed him hungrily, straddling him, as his hands glided over your body.

Your mind went foggy, as any composure you had in the situation was evaporating. His lustful kisses scorched your skin as they traveled down your neck. He lifted you higher so that he could drink more of you in. You gasped and sighed at how your body reacted to him, your fingers digging into his scalp. He groaned with pleasure as he found your open mouth again, your tongue a welcoming partner.

He pulled you in tighter, your hips grinding further into him. You felt his want, hard against your body, and you felt the last of your innocence pooling between your legs. The friction made you let out an un-sanctified moan, breaking away from his kiss. The sound of your voice intoxicated him.

You were in a controlled descent backwards as he lowered you to your back.

When did you start trembling? Has it really been that long since your last time?

Your hands danced across his chest, triggering goosebumps. Even his skin wanted you. You writhed beneath him as he positioned himself between your legs. You were bursting like a firecracker with anxious need. Your hands groped him, nails gently grazing - traveling down his torso and beneath the waistband of his boxers.

He gasped as your fingers wrapped around his organ, fluttering his eyes shut at your touch. You were on autopilot, your physical need in command of your body, as you attempted to pull his stiff erection from his boxers.

Mobius snatched your hands and you froze. He pulled your arms up, grasping your hands tightly, and pinned your wrists to the floor on either side of your head. You were hit with a wave of confusion, followed by shame.

Maybe you’d read this wrong. You looked up at him, half-expecting to read an expression of disgust.

What you found was the opposite.

His eyes— gentle, dark, and focused intently on you— telegraphed a message for you to read carefully:

You were not the one in control here.

You felt the wind of butterflies deep in your core as you realized he had clear goals for you in mind. He was asking you - imploring you - for command of your body. For the record, he already had it - whether or not either of you were conscious of it.

You lay still, save for your chest’s gentle movements, as his eyes unravelled the layers of your being. Trapped in his gaze, you were stripped bare in more than just flesh.

You were time travelling again - years into the past. The pages of your chapters fell away, until you felt like a pupil again, watching your master navigating the geography of your body.

His grip softened, giving your palms an affectionate squeeze before he released your hands. His leering gaze was already gliding down your valleys, and his hands followed, letting his fingertips brush the delicate flesh of your forearms as they travelled.

All your mind could do to focus was count your every breath as his touch and kisses grazed your skin. You wondered how long it had been for him. You quivered at the thought of him planning this moment.

He took time tasting you with each kiss - down your chest, your belly, the crest of your hips. You lifted your core with his encouragement, allowing him to pull away your last remaining piece of clothing. You were finally unveiled before him. He sighed softly, mind buzzing, as he delicately spread your legs apart.

He moved so slowly with intention, relishing each moment. You were on the verge of losing it and he had yet to touch your most sensitive areas. He could feel your hips squirm with anticipation.

“I want you,” he pacified you, “more than anything.” He tenderly kissed the inside of your thigh. “But I need to know that you want this too. Without a doubt in your mind.”

You were desperate by this point, way past “willing.” Regardless, he met your eyes, waiting patiently for your consent.

You were consumed with lust. “Please,” you stuttered in passionate exhilaration. You could barely recognize your own voice, “You can do anything you want to me.”

His face twitched into a sinful smirk. “I know.” There was that confidence again. “But that’s not what I asked.” He steadied his composure and fixed himself in your sights once again. You gazed at him with a more sobered expression, giving this moment the respect he wanted.

He watched your lips now that he had your attention. “Tell me you want me to make you feel good,” he seductively implored. “Tell me you want me to take you, here and now. I need to hear you say yes.”

The way he asked for your consent could’ve put you over the edge by itself.

“Yes,” you practically moaned under your breath. It was a sinful, thirsty plea. “God, yes, please. I want you to touch me.”

That ignited his fuse.

He lowered to his elbows, positioning his arms beneath your legs. His mouth was on you, leaving you aghast at the force. It was like he wanted more than just to please you - he relished in devouring you, like a frozen dessert on a hot summer day. You jolted and gasped, more from surprise than pain. He took note anyway, and steadied his animalistic pace.

It wasn’t long until your eyes were rolled in the back of your head. You were thunderstruck, arching your body and moaning with ecstasy.

The way his name sounded each time it sprang from your lips made him drunk. Every time you uttered it, you felt him tense and groan. It was a perpetual cycle. Your hips would reflexively buck from the intense pleasure and he would just hold on tighter. He forced your thighs apart as you encouraged him to unleash more rapture on your body.

This was not a particularly new position for you, but it was good. You weren’t sure where he got the experience, but he was really, really good.

And if “Sacred-you”— “NC-17-rated,” “parental-advisory-warning-labelled” badass-you—could just see yourself now: writhing on the floor while being laid out by an older man, one whom you’d rarely seen out of a brown suit and tie. You didn’t think this man knew how to fire a gun before, but you were practically mewling for him like a kitten.

And god, he really seemed to enjoy it.

You warned him that you couldn’t last much longer. You felt the tension building inside. You wanted desperately to satisfy him, to feel him inside of you, to have him enraptured with you. But unless he slowed down, you were going to lose it right here with his mouth on you. You knew he had needs, and you began to plead with him to let you fulfill them.

You pushed down on his shoulders, begging him to let you have a turn. He pulled away, pausing only briefly.

“Uh uh,” he chastised you with a wicked grin. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

He was back on you before you could reply, this time reaching two of his fingers into your core.

Your head dropped backwards at the sensation, and now you were obscenely begging him for more. You’d happily given up any attempt at controlling what happened next, focusing solely on the nuclear fission in your body.

You blossomed for him as his fingertips pulsed on the most sensitive flesh inside inside you. Muscles you didn’t even remember you had repeatedly contracted. He impurely hummed and he lapped greedily at the fruit of his labor.

You were gasping for air, beaded with sweat, as you came down from your high. He leaned over you to witness the sunset of your orgasm. Eyes full of lust, he pulled himself free of his boxers and discarded them as he watched you.

When you glanced down to see the stunning sight of his stimulation, it re-electrified you. You pulled yourself into a sitting position on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your legs straddled him eagerly as he lifted your hips over his member.

The erotic sound you both made as you slid down his shaft was sinful enough to cast you both into hell. You kissed him, open-mouthed, and tasted yourself on his tongue. Now that you were on top of him, wrapped around him, he seemed more frantic and less calculated with his movement.

He was gazing up at you like a lustful teenage boy, letting himself be taken by passion. “God...” he whispered, suddenly less skilled with words. “You feel so... ah!... s-so beautiful...”

“You’re so hard…stretching me so tight,” you groaned into his mouth, and he growled in agreement, nodding his head.

He broke away from the kiss, “God - yes, ah, you’re s-so tight, baby...” You grinned excitedly as you climbed and descended his length. You moaned like a porn star as you rode him.

“I can call you that, can’t I?” he said through his own breathless moans. You glanced at him in confusion. He looked concerned. His hands braced your hips as you continued your movement. “Is that okay?”

“Wha-what?”

“The pet name,“ he explained through sighs, “B-Baby? I-I don’t want it to sound de-demeaning, or... patronizing—”

Okay. Now he was overthinking it.

“It’s fine,” you urged him to move on, growing more frustrated, but now he was babbling nervously.

“I could call you something else—”

“—don’t care—”

“—’s’important to me that you know I respect you, and I’d never—”

“I don’t care, I—You can call me whatever you want. Please, daddy… Just— fuck me…”

You crashed your lips on his, but felt his breath hitch as he tensed you immediately. You either said something very right, or very wrong. The sex had all but come to a screeching halt, as you reluctantly met his eyes.

He gazed at you thoughtfully, gears turning.

Timidly, you searched his face for judgment, for any sign of disapproval, but instead, there was a look of almost— awe.

You watched the change in him as the devil overtook him. His eyes turned three shades darker, pooling with lust. His expression of wonder melted into a devious smile. Your dirty talk awakened something in him, like he was remembering a long-forgotten visceral part of himself.

He scooped you up and laid you on your back again, pulling himself out of your body. You only had a brief time to revolt, until he sat up on his knees and he lifted one of your thighs up, pulling your leg over his shoulder. You watched curiously trying to figure out what he was doing, until he gripped your hips and pulled you downward— over his shaft.

You let out a painfully delicious cry as he bottomed out inside of you. He hungrily watched your expressions and relished in the sound of your moans.

His hand braced the inside of your other thigh, holding your legs open so that you were spread at the right angle for him. As soon as he began to thrust, you were done for.

You groaned with ecstasy. “That’s... it..,” he praised you, eliciting more cries from you.

There were no more performances. There was no more pageantry. No more room for pretending to be anyone other than who you are.

You were coming undone for him, and he watched every moment. Every dirty thought and fantasy you ever had might as well have been written on your body. He studied each line.

“Oh god, Mobius—yes,” you babbled as you squirmed.

“Yeah?” he breathed, teasingly. “Does that feel good?” You nodded frantically.

Sweat beaded down his chest as his hands roamed to find your sweet spot, and another desperate wave of ‘yes’s flooded out from your lips.

“What did you call me?” he enticed, his mouth watering for your response. “What name did you call me before?” You were struggling with words, but he wouldn’t stop until he coaxed the right one from you.

“Say it.”

You tangled your fingers in your scalp, turning your head away. He thrust into your hips a little deeper, and you cried out obscenely.

“Say it,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “I wanna hear you say it again. I wanna watch you say it to me.”

More lewd noises dropped out of your mouth, as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “Yes, please, I love what’re… doing t’ me… I need it, daddy…”

He groaned with a lecherous smile, biting his lip. “You are so good for me.”

Lust was dripping from each word as he drew them out. His honeyed, Southern accent had returned. His eyes were blown black as he cooed with praise, “You make me wanna be so bad.”

You were gone after that. Your head tilted back, crying out through another climax. He could hear his own voice—that’s it that’s it—moaning in the distance somewhere, but he was enthralled with your little pleas. The tones of your voice washed over him; he used them to quell the blaze inside.

He knew everything he wanted to do to you, and everything you wanted him to do. And he couldn’t get past the feeling, as he buried himself deeper inside of you, that this was all... familiar.

This picture of you, spread out gloriously beneath him, was impossibly familiar. He imagined a bed that wasn’t his own, and light blue cotton sheets that couldn’t have been his, and the sunlight peeking from a sheer curtain, and falling across the ecstasy-filled face of his lover that he couldn’t have ever married...

That was....you.

Your voice was echoing in Mobius’ head. You whined and whimpered, glowing with passion, signaling that you were moments away from your climax. And then he was here - on Olympus-V with you, and he felt you tighten and flutter around him.

The sight of you, writhing beneath him as you reached orgasm, pulled a deep moan from his chest. White hot light flooded his vision. His body jerked and reacted in unison, filling you with his seed.

For someone for whom time had little meaning, he was now obsessed - trying to catch and hold back each fleeting moment. He leaned forward, his body spent, and you pulled his chin down into a longing kiss.

His mind was spinning. His lungs were still taking deep breaths. He pulled away slowly and rested his forehead on yours, his eyes closed as he struggled to make sense of what was real and what was a dream.

“I could never let you go,” he declared, deep in contemplation. You didn’t quite understand the connection in the present moment. You didn’t remember.

“Then stay with me,” was your gentle reply.

He gazed once again into your eyes with a knowing smile. “Always.”

A/N: And I'm leaving it there. For now. Please reblog with feedback, or send me a message on your thoughts. This is my first attempt at writing in a long, long time. Also it's my first attempt at smut so be nice with your feedback :-)

THANK YOU to all of you for your wonderful comments. Please reblog for support!

@generalhugzzz @isaxbella749 @yodaboo @aloyssia @simsiddy @coloursforyourportrait

#mobius #agent mobius #my heart can’t handle it #mobius m. mobius #agent mobius x reader #mobius x you #agent mobius x you #mobius fanfiction #mobius m mobius x reader #Owen Wilson #owen wilson x reader #loki #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #Lizzy writes. #lizzy writes!shudder. #mcu fanfiction #loki tv show #loki tv series #fuck ravonna #genre: pwp

[sanguinescorpios]

Still Alive

dream x f!reader

PART ONE

summary | Just under 20 years ago, the world slipped from humanity’s grasp and fell into the lap of mutant creatures. While most humans hid from the variants, some, like reader, grew restless in the bases they grew up in and needed out. What will happen when reader realizes that she doesn’t stand a chance in the wild on her own, and can something deeper blossom from a survival-based alliance? 

warnings | none!

word count | 1.7k

I had never seen a flower before. At least, not that I could remember. Things like that didn’t exist within the confines of the city walls, the beautiful, living things. The things that reminded you you were alive. My gaze fixated on the object before I even knew what I was looking at. Its petals swirled with pinks and purples, hues I had only seen in worn-out wool and peeling paint. Deep emerald leaves adorned a similarly colored stem, all woven together intricately and standing out amidst the field of brown. I marveled at the plant, bending down to hold it delicately between two fingers. It was incredible, even better than in photographs.

I spent months looking through the old textbooks Zoe had found, simply admiring the anatomy of different flowers and plants from the Old World. She was so excited to show me. I can still picture her jumping up and down as she entered my room in her tattered sports jersey and two-sizes-too-big jeans, a huge stack of books cradled like a child in her arms. Her tight curls were always pulled up into two buns, perfectly placed on the top of her head and bouncing with her childlike movements. I had quirked up an eyebrow at her as she wordlessly dropped her findings on my cot with a thump.

“Books,” she had said, looking at me with a newfound glimmer in her eye, “textbooks. We can learn!”

There was plenty of other information in those textbooks, but the flowers fascinated me. They caught my attention not just for their beauty, but for their mechanics, too. As I read, I began to appreciate how their roots anchored them to the earth, how their stems acted as passageways for water and nutrients, how they came in so many shapes, shades, and sizes. I wanted to know everything I could about them. I had always been that way, I guess.

A nearly foreign feeling emerged in me as a smile curled its way onto my face. The muscles were rusty from a long hibernation and they weren’t sure how to react to the sudden use. Dust found its way into my eyes as my cheeks rose with the grin, so I brushed it away quickly. That, I was used to.

“A cosmos,” I said to no one but myself. Of course, it was a cosmos.

The world before me was barren, a bleak expanse of land that seemed to never end. How the fuck was I supposed to survive out here? Despite my extensive studying, I wasn’t necessarily well-versed in survival. I had no protection out here, no roof over my head, and no soldiers with weapons on watch for intruders, or worse, for variants. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought. Variants were the one thing I knew almost nothing about, despite how hard I tried to get information from the watchmen and neighboring families. In all honesty, we didn’t know much about them, just that they didn’t seem to like us too much. One week the world was our terrain and the next it was theirs. I had never met one and I wasn’t planning on doing so, but I no longer had control over that. I chose to leave and there was no turning back.

That didn’t make it any less terrifying.

Adjusting my pack on my back, I grabbed my flask and poured a bit of water over the stubborn flower.

“Hope we make it, little guy.”

One last look at the distant confines I used to call home, then I was walking again, this time never turning back.

. . .

As it turns out, walking across one huge expanse of dust and dirt isn’t very fun! In fact, it’s fucking brutal. I had no idea where I was going, that much was clear not even ten minutes into the journey. Leave the city, that was my only plan. A shit plan, in hindsight. I reached into one of the many pockets of my pack and pulled out my water bottle. Last sip, that’s not good. If I could just go a little longer and reach the forest, I’d be okay. Much of the landscape had been torn apart over the years, but there were still occasional patches of green, at least that’s what I had been told. Just a little farther, surely I would reach it soon.

The hours dragged on, all melding together into one blurry week of sleeping in a ripped tent in the middle of nowhere and barely eating or drinking. When my eyes focused on a small dot of green in the distance, I nearly brought my hands up to rub the mirage from them, but I knew better than to do anything like that before washing. Especially after the week I’ve had, too much dust and not enough water.

I had been preparing for my lunch break when I spotted it, excited to get my hands on my tenth granola bar of the week. All desire for a break left my body, replaced by the desperate need to get to that forest before nightfall. There could be water in there, shelter, food, the possibilities were endless. I picked up my pace, feet moving with fervor despite my obvious exhaustion. My pack threatened to slip off my back, but I ignored it.

I reached the edge of the forest by nightfall, a shudder running through me at the thought of spending the night alone in the dense environment. Anyone or anything could be living here, and they could be hungry. The ground didn’t feel safe, too open and vulnerable of a place to sleep, but the sliver of moonlight shining down on me wasn’t enough to find anywhere else. This would have to do.

A few restless hours passed before I had finally fallen into a deep sleep, my back pressed uncomfortably against a tree and my pack serving as a makeshift pillow. I didn’t bother to set up camp, figuring I’d pick up and move in the morning anyways. I expected to get a few good hours of sleep at least, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, I was shaken awake by unfamiliar hands and a gruff voice.

“Get the fuck up,” the voice barked as my eyes adjusted to the morning light, peering up at the shaded figure looming over me.

“Wha-what?”

“Get. The fuck. Up.” The figure grabbed my pack from underneath my head and I groaned at the rude awakening. In my early morning haziness, I barely questioned the individual’s orders. My body moved before my brain told it to, pulling itself out of the fetal position and standing up, unsteady but sturdy enough.

As I rose to my feet, I took a good look at the person for the first time. He stood tall, towering over my frame with long legs and broad shoulders. Underneath his hood, a mask shielded most of his face from me; it looked to be made of some sort of wood and with the jagged smile that was carved into it, it was borderline terrifying. Dark blond hair toppled out and around the thing, curling messily at the ends. He sported muted green cargo pants and a thick belt bearing a multitude of knives and other weapons I didn’t even want to imagine. A black T-Shirt spread across his torso, strong arms emerging from the sleeves and gloved hands gripping a satchel against his hip. If this went south, I was outmatched.

“What made you think sleeping on the ground was a good idea?” he hissed out a few minutes later as he led me through the trees, taking angry steps at least two yards ahead of me.

“I didn’t have many other options,” I responded simply, not sure what he wanted from me and still groggy with sleep.

“Well, you picked the stupidest option.”

I rolled my eyes, who did this guy think he was? Sure, the ground wasn’t the smartest choice, but it was all I had! I huffed, kicking at a rock as he stopped to check...something — who knows what he was doing.

“You got a name, mask boy?”

He shushed me, holding up his index finger as he looked around at our surroundings.

“It was just a question-”

“Dream,” he cut me off, “now shush.”

He said it simply, like it wasn’t the most absurd name anyone had ever heard, and went right back to surveying the space around us. I poked my head around at him, trying and failing to get this mystery man’s attention.

“Is that your real name?” I inquired, making awkward eye contact with the mesh-covered eyeholes of his mask and wishing I could see his face when he answered. Maybe then I’d know if he was bluffing or not. Or if he planned on killing me.

“It’s what you’ll call me.”

There was a finality in the way he said it, a sternness in his voice that I wasn’t about to argue with. A beat passed in utter silence, me waiting for him to continue the conversation and him already three steps ahead of me on the path. Dream isn’t a chatty guy, noted.

I jogged to catch up to him, slowing as I reached his side. He didn’t seem like he was going to kill me as soon as night fell on the already dark forest, but keeping him in my sight was the safest bet.

“You’re not gonna ask my name?” He turned to face me, raising an eyebrow and bobbing his head as if to say ‘go on’. I gave him my name and he grunted in response — men.

He persevered through the forest, cutting away branches and leaving a green mess in our wake. I had no idea where we were going or why I was following his lead so easily, but he seemed confident and I trusted his confidence more than my own.

“So…” I dragged on, twiddling my thumbs and shooting him a look, “do we have a plan here or are we just gonna wander for the next five hours of daylight?”

He rolled his eyes, letting out an “ugh” as he pushed through another set of leaves. I wasn’t wrong; the sun would be setting soon, and based on how he reacted this morning, he wasn’t a night owl.

“Our camp is set up a few miles north. We should get there before nightfall.”

Did he say our?

#dreanwastaken #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken fanfic #mcyt writing

[trumpetnista]

#personal #calender post #calendar post #june #summer #early summer #LiveLoveWRITE #DO YOUR BEST TO GET VACCINATED. I KNOW IT CAN BE HARD AS HELL TO GET A DOSE IN SOME AREAS. #GET VACCINATED. #ALL OF THE VARIANTS ARE REAL AND WILL FUCKING KILL YOU AND THOSE AROUND YOU! #DO NOT LET OTHER PEOPLE'S IDIOCY GET YOU KILLED! #LISTEN TO THE SCIENCE. #celebrate responsibly! #oh hot dayum...this is my JAM! #bone thugs n harmony #wake up wake up wake up... #it's da 1st of da month... #black tumblr #black culture #90s rap #90s kid #family #memes make a pandemic a bit more bearable! #memes make quarantine a bit more bearable! #gif mashups #trumpetnista

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #227

Today on Fate and Phantasms we're building another prettyboy saber from another dimension, the Prince of Lan Ling! He's a Swords Bard for that fancy spinny swordfighting style of his plus tons of buffs for your allies and debuffs for your enemies (his NP is a song, after all), as well as a Devotion Paladin for his horse and a mask that blocks out mental debuffs.

Check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: She likes poetry/ she kills you if you have some/ The fuck, Liangyu?

Race and Background

The good prince is a variant human, giving him +1 Strength and Constitution. This gives you proficiency with Acrobatics to cool spinning tricks and the Inspiring Leader feat. You give a speech, and up to six creatures (including you, if you want) get temporary HP equal to your level and your charisma modifier, and each creature you inspire this way can't get them again until they finish a short rest. Technically you have to spend 10 minutes talking to get this bonus, but if your DM really forces your hand just sing the Song of Lan Ling on repeat until they tell you to stop.

Also, you're a prince, that means you're a Noble. History and Persuasion proficiency, yay.

Ability Scores

We're actually going with point buy this time around, since Lan Ling is one of those annoying people who are decent at just about everything. Your Dexterity and Charisma should be the highest at 14 apiece since those are the main abilities we're focusing on. After that is Intelligence and Strength at 12. Lan Ling is a good tactician, and with your racial bonus that'll get our strength where it needs to be for multiclassing. Constitution is at 11, with your racial bonus rounding it up. Military campaigns are surprisingly difficult to survive, so you have to be a little tough. You did die from poisoning though, so we aren't making you that tough. Finally, we're "dumping" Wisdom at only 10. You follow orders to your own detriment, but aside from that you're pretty alright. That also doesn't give us much in the way of mental defenses, but we'll fix that as we go on.

Class Levels

Bard 1: Starting off as a bard gives us a bunch of cool stuff like proficiency with Dexterity and Charisma saves plus three skills of your choice like Animal Handling for horseback riding and Investigation and Insight for a better tactical mind. You can also use your bonus action for some Bardic Inspiration, giving an ally a d6 to add to one ability check, saving throw, or attack roll made in the next minute. You're just a really cool guy, and people want to do their best around you. You get a number of dice equal to your charisma modifier, and they get recharged on a long rest. On top of that you can cast Spells using your Charisma, like the cantrip Mending to fix up your mask in a pinch, or Message to deliver information on a noisy battlefield. You can also use your prettyboy face to Charm Persons for up to an hour if they fail a wisdom save, turning them into your friend until you or your real friends hurt them. If you're already in combat, you can use Bane to weaken the enemy's resolve, forcing a charisma save on up to three creatures and reducing all their saves and attacks by 1d4 for a minute. If you'd rather help your friends instead, use Healing Word to bolster their fighting spirit (read: heal them), or Faerie Fire to strengthen their attacks. Any creature in a 20' cube gets lit up if they fail a dexterity save, preventing them from turning invisible and granting all attacks against them advantage.

Bard 2: Second level bards are Jacks of All Trades, adding half their proficiency to checks they aren't proficient in, which tidily solves your being good at everything problem. You also get a Song of Rest, adding a d6 to the healing your party does over short rests. On top of that, you can cast Disguise Self. It's not a physical mask, but it'll do in a pinch.

Bard 3: At third level you graduate from college, and while being a Swords bard won't help you find a job in this economy, at least you'll be able to rob people. They get a fighting style like Dueling for +2 to attacks you make with a one-handed weapon. You also learn some Blade Flourishes by spending bardic inspiration dice to add some bonus flair to your manslaughter. A Defensive Flourish adds a roll of your inspiration to both your damage and your AC for the round, a Slashing Flourish deals a roll in damage to everything you want to hit within 5' of you, and a Mobile Flourish pushes your foe back a bit, deals extra damage, and lets you follow them with your reaction. Think "dramatic fencing scene on a high platform" sort of attacks. You also get a second level spell like Aid, letting you add 5 HP to a creatures maximum for 8 hours, no concentration. We won't be able to focus too much on constitution here, but this and Inspiring Leader will help make up the difference. Finally, use your Expertise to double your proficiency bonus in Investigation and Insight. Tactics are your friend and we can't go battlemaster as a bard, so this is what we're doing.

Bard 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to power up your Dexterity for more accurate attacks and a better AC. You also learn the cantrip Friends to be so pretty you get advantage on charisma checks against one creature for up to a minute, though they probably won't be friends after the spell ends. To help with the fallout, use Calm Emotions to calm down people in a 20' radius. Creatures that fail their Charisma check either have any charm or frightening effects used on them suppressed for a minute, or they become indifferent instead of hostile towards other creatures. Fun fact, this absolutely gets around charm immunity. Your face is just that beautiful.

Bard 5: Fifth level is a good level for bards. Your bardic inspiration grows to a d8, and you become a Font of Inspiration, regaining spent inspiration on a short rest instead of a long one. You can also cast third level spells now like Fear. You'll probably have to reflavor it, but it makes bad guys stop attacking you, and they have disadvantage on checks and attacks for the duration if they fail a wisdom save.

Bard 6: Fear and charming are all well and good, but I think it's time to help our party more directly again. Your Countercharm is the best we have for now, spending an action to give advantage on saves against getting charmed or frightened. You also gain an Extra Attack each action from being a swords bard, and can cast Mass Healing Word to deliver even more healing goodness to the party.

Paladin 1: Okay Countercharm is bad, so if we want something better we'll have to ask god. Sorta. As a paladin you can use Divine Sense to sense extraplanar creatures. Look for the giant pillars, those tend to be the demons. You can also Lay on Hands, spending an action to heal a person for up to 5 HP per paladin level. There's something about Lan Ling catching you that just makes all your worries go away.

Paladin 2: Second level paladins get another fighting style, and Protection makes your armor even tougher with a +1 to your AC. Your barding certainly isn't heavy, or even medium, but it is still armor. You can also cast Spells now using your Charisma to cast or prepare them. Since we're multiclassing, check the multiclassing table to figure out how many slots you have. Pick up Cure Wounds for a stronger single-target heal, Heroism in case your inspiring leadership has worn off, or Command to be pretty and have people do stuff for you. Alternatively, you can use Divine Smite to add plenty of radiant damage to a weapon attack. For once this isn't in character, but it's free damage.

Paladin 3: If we want magical defenses, there's no better choice than the Devotion paladin, and you're so devoted you offed yourself for very little reason. Try not to do that in-game, your party might not like you for that. You get Divine Health, making you immune to disease. Definitely not poison though. You also get Channel Divinity once per short rest, letting you make a Sacred Weapon or Turn the Unholy. The former adds your charisma to attacks with the weapon, and it turns into a flashlight for up to a minute. The latter forces a wisdom save on fiends and undead nearby, forcing them to run away and not attack people for up to a minute. Even demons know how pretty you are. Even demons know. You also get subclass spells that are always prepared for you, like Protection from Evil and Good and Sanctuary. Your mask shuts out all "mental agitations", and I'm ruling that includes possession. And if you take the mask off you force a wisdom save on all creatures trying to attack you, and if they fail they have to hit someone else. This lasts up to 1 minute, or until you make an attack or offensive spell.

Paladin 4: Fourth level paladins get another ASI, so boost your Charisma for stronger spells, more inspiration, and better stuff later. You like charisma, it's pretty good for you.

Bard 7: Seventh level bards get fourth level spell slots for stuff like Freedom of Movement. Now you can't be slowed, paralyzed, or restrained for an hour. Hey, if your mask protects from mental agitations, why don't you have protection from mental debuffs in game?

Bard 8: Use this ASI to bump up your Charisma for more spells, blah blah blah we just told you why this is good two levels ago, it's probably still on your screen just look up. Also grab Ego Whip for an intellgence save that forces disadvantage on attacks, checks, and saves on a failure, while also shutting down magic. At the end of each turn it can make another intelligence save, but again, that's at disadvantage. Who could hurt a face like that?

Bard 9: Your song of rest catches up to your inspiration, and you can now cast Intellect Fortress for advantage on intelligence, wisdom, and charisma saves, plus resistance to psychic damage for up to an hour with concentration. You can even pass your mask to another creature, or create copies with higher level spell slots. Oh hey, it's your sixth level ability but significantly better, how'd that work out for you, countercharm?

Bard 10: Your last level of barding bumps your inspiration up to a d10, and you learn the spell Blade Ward for a kinda sorta uncanny dodge. You also learn two Magical Secrets from any spell list, like Bless to add 1d4 to your allies' attacks, saves and checks for a minute, or Slow to do the exact opposite of Haste on up to six creatures. Their speed is halved, they take a -2 to dexterity saves, and can't take reactions. Also, they can only take an action or a bonus action, not both. They also can only make one attack per turn, and have a 50/50 chance of taking two turns to cast a 1 turn spell. They have to fail a wisdom save for this to take effect, and they get another one at the end of each turn. You also get more Expertise in Animal Handling and History, I swear we're getting that horse soon.

Paladin 5: Fifth level paladins don't get that extra attack since you have one already, but you do get second level spells! Grab freebies like Lesser Restoration for even more protection from status effects, and Zone of Truth for... uh.... hey look! It's Find Steed! Boom, horse, done. Also, while riding this horse you can have spells that affect you affect your mount as well for even better healing and buffs. That's right, you can use that sixth level spell slot to beef up yourself and your horse so neither of you die in the first round!

Paladin 6: At six(teen)th level your Aura of Protection adds your charisma modifier to any save made within 10' of you, so even if you don't have a spell up you can still deal with spells coming your way.

Paladin 7: I hope you weren't done with auras yet, because your Aura of Devotion also automatically shuts down charming effects within 10' of you.

Paladin 8: Use your last ASI to bump up your Charisma to the highest it can get. Normally I like to balance things out, but your face is literally supernaturally pretty.

Paladin 9: Your penultimate level finally grants you the highest of boons: third level paladin spells. As a Beacon of Hope you give allies advantage on wisdom and death saves, plus they gain the maximum amount of healing from any healing effects. Dispel Magic does Aura of Vitality continues your healing crusade by letting you heal a nearby creature each turn as a bonus action for a long-term healing word. Speaking of a crusade, if your allies really want to go on one Crusader's Mantle will add a bit of radiant damage to their attacks when they're near you.

Paladin 10: Your last level of this build grants you an Aura of Courage, preventing any frightening effects within 10 feet of you. I told you we were making a mask that shuts out all mental agitation, and I delivered.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

Debuffs slide off you and your party like water on ducks, and anything that isn't rejected immediately will be highly resisted thanks to the +5 to all saves you give people and, likely, the resistances as well.

Your own debuffs are also varied with their attack strategies, hitting intelligence, wisdom, and charisma to make sure that almost every enemy will have their weak point exploited.

While you only have 130 HP on paper, Inspiring Leader and a high-level Aid spell will bump that amount up to a nice 200 before we even get into your healing. That makes you a surprisingly solid frontline fighter if you need to be. Business in the front, business in the back, you fit in everywhere.

Cons:

We had to sink most of our ASIs into either fixing the middling start from point buy or bumping your Charisma, so your physicality is a little lacking. Your dexterity is a touch lower than we'd like for someone using their sword, and while we can make up for your low base HP it's still a problem.

On that note, your buffs take time to apply, so if you're ambushed without Aid or you don't have time for an inspiring speech you'll find yourself a lot weaker than normal.

Having eighth level spell slots is nice, but you know what's nicer? Eighth level spells. Multiclassing gives you a lot in the way of defenses, but it doesn't help against the fact that you could be warping reality to your whim right now on another build.

#Fate Grand Order #FGO #D&D 5e #DND #Prince of Lanling #Lanling wang #Bard #Paladin

[shiftynightshade]

“He’s so young. Too young to be in a suit like that.”

Tony glanced at Steve and Natasha’s expressions, faces scrunched up in some mixture of discomfort and anger. It was understandable, really. The kid was on the younger side, though they could not tell much considering under his helmet was a yellow domino mask.

The kid was shifting in his seat, hands cuffed to the metal table in front of him and super-power inhibitor collar clasped around his neck. They had gathered on the other side of the glass, uneasily staring at the child who happened to be decked out in a very high-tech suit. Nat uncrossed her arms to run one hand through her hair. “Why is a kid with superpowers and a suit that advanced doing trapezing around New York?”

Steve shrugged helplessly, eyeing the teen through the glass as if it held all the answers. It kinda did, in a way.

“Fury’s on his way.”

Clint shuffled to stand between Tony and Nat, face drawn with the same discomfort whenever he dealt with kids in bad situations. Steve gave a small huff, setting his shield down and striding through the door into the interrogation room. The kid looked up when Steve entered the room, eyeing him as if he was an unknown variant on a battlefield; an enemy.

Steve settled in the metal chair opposite the kid, leaning forward in his seat to stare directly into his masked eyes. “Hey son, can I get you anything? Water perhaps?” He didn’t respond, opting to stare Steve down. After a small bout of tense silence, he shook his head. “No thanks.”

God this kid was young.

His voice was smoother than expected, but still held the hint of youth to it that Tony often heard from Peter. Tony couldn’t see Steve’s face, but based on Nat’s pinched expression, his was probably similar.

“So, what were you doing running around New York like that?”

The kid smirked. “Like what? Sir.”

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his short hair, clearly caught off guard. “You know,” He waved a hand helplessly in the air. “In armour that very few places make, and I highly doubt someone of your age could afford such equipment.”

The kid mere shrugged with that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. “But here we are.” He said carelessly. “Cuffed to a table in the Avengers Tower for no discernible reason, one might say that this was a biased arrest.”

Steve spluttered, leaning back in his seat as if the Hulk had slapped him. “I beg your pardon!?”

“Well, I wasn’t disturbing the peace, I wasn’t attacking anyone. So I don’t see the reason for my detainment.”

“We had determined you as a possible threat because of your super powers and the fact that you were participating in vigilante acts, which is illegal son.”

Tony had expected the kids smirk to slip, for him to collapse into a mess of tears and discomfort, which was definitely overdue. The kid hadn’t even looked at them like they had saved the world, no hero worship, no stumbling in his words. It was like he didn’t care that they were heroes!

The kid hummed. “Well you are right about me being a vigilante.”

Steve leaned forward again. “Son, vigilantism and trying to be a hero is extremely dangerous. This is no world for someone as young and inexperienced as you.” He said gently.

The kid snorted. “Look here Mr. Rogers. I don’t think you lot know this, but I know what I’m doing, believe it or not. Frankly, I’ve been doing this whole business longer than you Avengers have been together as a single team.”

Steve stared for a moment before sighing in defeat. He turned slightly in his seat to look at them with a pleading expression. Tony looked at Bruce and the two SHIELD agents before shrugging and walking over to the door, his suit whirring with every movement. He opened the door and stepped into the bright room, eyes immediately locking onto the kids suit; it was such high quality that Tony wanted to steal it and pick it apart until he knew about ever Knut and bolt within the metal.

Tony put on his suavest voice and sauntered over to stand next to Steve.

“Hey kid, this is what’s gonna happen. You are gonna give us your name, age and we will let you go. How about that?”

Tony expected that that would make the kid cave. Whenever he used that voice, he got whatever he wanted. It would obviously work on a wannabe Avenger. Right?

The kid tilted his head to the side for a moment. “Mmm, you can call me Signal.” He settled on, leaning back in his chair ever so slightly. Tony huffed. This was getting old. “One, you didn’t give us your age and two, I really doubt that your real name is Signal.”

‘Signal’ smiled serenely, smugness rolling off him in waves with an air of superiority that pissed Tony off. “Sorry, no names in the field and I’m turning seventeen in a few months.”

Tony blinked. This kid was sixteen. What the fuck.

Steve threw his hands up. “That’s beside the point! You’re not an adult, so you shouldn’t be running around playing hero!”

Signal scowled, his easy-going expression melting into something colder, more dangerous. “Oh? And what is the definition of hero, Mr Rogers? Someone who does everything they can to protect those who cannot protect themselves? Or someone who only saves the world and doesn’t bother with the daily crime that litters the streets?”

He leaned forward in his seat. “Tell me then, what is your definition of hero? Because last time I checked, which was this morning mind you, the Avengers are very diverse when it comes to their backgrounds.” He tilted his head briefly at Tony. “A former weapons manufacturer who now works to better the earth.”

“Maybe a hero is someone like Natasha Romanoff, a redeemed Black Widow from the Red Room, who joined SHIELD after encountering Clint Barton who was sent to kill her for being a Russian spy, only to instead become friends with her. Is that it? Two assassin’s, one from the Red room and one from the circus?”

Signals voice and gaze didn’t waver once.

Tony and Bruce shared a glance before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him firmly. The lock buzzed. Natasha looked pale, her face was blank and she had rested her weight against the wall with Clint beside her. Tony opened his mouth, only for Banner to open the door and motion them out into the hall. “Fury’s here.”

Tony groaned but followed the doctor anyways. Director Pirate himself was exiting the elevator when they followed Bruce, his dark coat fluttering with every movement. “Who the hell did you capture off the streets?” Was his greeting.

Clint shrugged. “No idea, some kind of vigilante with super-powers. He definitely needs to be in SHIELDS systems though.” At Fury’s questioning look, Clint frowned. “He knows about the Red Room and how I met Nat.”

Fury scowled. “How the fuck would they know that!?”

They all piled back into the room, Signal still perched calmly in his seat, staring right back at them through the glass. Fury frowned and looked the the ‘vigilante’, only for his eye to widen and whirl on the spot to glare at them.

“You captured one of the Bats! Are you lot crazy!?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Bats?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes! The Bats! His name is Signal isn’t it?”

At Steve’s nod, Fury groaned. “Great…. just great. “You lot managed to nab the Bat’s favourite.”

Tony slapped a hand to his forehead, wincing when the metal hit his skin. “Can you please tell us what the hell you’re yabbering on about Fury?”

Fury planted a hand on his hip. “The Bats are Gotham’s protectors. Simply put they’re a clan of vigilante’s that stop crime and deal with corruption. That person right there. Signal?” He pointed to Signal. “Is Gotham’s daytime guardian. You see Bat’s doesn’t like Meta humans in his city, bar Signal. The other work in the shadows, Signal works in the light.”

Fury pursed his lips. “Signal is considered the Bat clan’s guiding light, he’s the cities beacon of hope.”

The sound of metal clinking against metal drew their attention back to Signal, only to see an empty chair and a set of cuffs next to the repression collar. “What the-“

Then there were alarms blaring, Jarvis’s voice nearly swallowed by the noise. “Sir there are three confirmed intruders in the entertainment room, two unknown, one identified as the prisoner.”

That had them flying from the room, into the common area with their weapons at the ready, only for a sharp ninja star shaped like a god-dammed bat fly past and imbed itself in the wall beside them.

“I wouldn’t take another step if I were you.”

Tony stared at the the figure standing in front of them with a gaping expression. He had a full bodysuit of Kevlar equipped and a bo staff pointed threateningly at them. Another on dressed in traffic light colours of all things was standing protectively in front of Signal with a katana in hand.

“H-how the hell did you guys get here? Who are you guys?”

The small kid scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Amateurs.” He muttered. The kid with the staff narrowed his eyes briefly. “I’m Red Robin.” He said curtly.

“We’ll be taking our leave now. Director Fury.” He nodded at Fury. “Please be careful with your heroes, if something like this happens again Batman will not be pleased.” At Fury’s nod, Red Robin slammed a pellet into the ground causing smoke to erupt and fill the room.

They all coughed when they inhaled the smoke, and when it cleared after a few seconds, the three were nowhere, no evidence indicating they existed.

“Soooooo, guess we’re avoiding Gotham now?”

Extra: Damian kicked his legs back and forth and he sipped his milkshake, the familiar smog of Gotham's nightlife sitting heavily in the air. "So," he began. "How'd you end up tangling with the Avengers?"

Duke snorted from beside him. "They saw me use my powers alone and pegged me for an amateur hero." He made a face that made Tim giggle.

Damian scoffed. "Please, you? an amateur? That's like saying my Grandfather doesn't have a school-girl crush on Drake over there." Tim gagged. "Really Robin? Did you have to make me think of that?" Duke laughed. "If we have to live with that fact so do you."

#duke thomas #the signal #signal #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #nick fury #tony stark #ironman #steve rogers #captain america #bruce banner #the hulk #natasha romanov #black widow #clint barton #hawkeye #batfam #the avengers #the avengers meet the batfam

[cactus-joke]

the thing i will never wrap my head around is introducing sylvie as a frankenloki & then giving her absolutely no depth despite her being the key protagonist of season 1... like mike must hate women for the fact that

1) all the tva women of color are sidelined immediately (at least the two w the most prominent & interesting roles/backgrounds) for a white ladies development

2) you can count all the tva lady agents we see onscreen w one hand

3) frankenloki aka sylvie has a bunch of gaps for a character like where’d she get blonde hair dye. if ure hellbent on revenge why are u making stops at wallmart 2 get a box of hair bleach. where’d she get asgardian leather but SPECIFICALLY for her top (she’s wearing baggy pants & combat boots w that ensemble??? which as i say it also sounds like those corny wattpad “put my hair in a messy bun, wore my combat boots” fanfic outfits 😭), why and how did she get the AoA loki horns, she didn’t have them when she was taken. if she hates the loki association why’s she wearing the horns & the color green which is... the biggest target to be perceived as loki

4) if she’s an important part of the self love metaphor romance why does she always make this face “😐🤨🤢😐🤨😐” when loki talks (berating him & betraying him in the end aside ofc!)

5) why do we not know her nexus event? why do we not know why she chose the name sylvie? why does she have no prominent character traits outside of having a vagina? why is she cis? why did she get taken at the tender age of an elementary schooler but not when she was born if her crime was being born a girl?

6) has mike waldron ever met, spoken to, or seen a woman? has he engaged in critical, intelligent conversation with anyone, really?

7) can i be emotionally compensated by disney for simultaneously the most BORING (how do you make.. the god of mischief & tricks... boring is beyond me) and convoluted overstuffed show for wasting my time?

I don't know that Mike hates women, but I do think, based on his interviews and the resulting product he made, that:

1) It was certainly a choice to make the two prominent black female characters slaves to a fascist organization and one essentially a leader of it. A choice I don't think anyone involved in creating this show spent a second to think about.

I don't think they were necessarily sidelined on purpose, however. I just think it's an inevitable by-product of the show's terrible pacing and even worse writing. That scene one between B-15 and Renslayer, a scene I think was ultimately a waste of time, made me think that they probably did want to highlight at least those two characters on their own merit. They failed, of course, in the end, and with the set-up I think the intention or lack of intention doesn't really matter since we get what we get, you know?

It's not really a shinning example of giving your characters of color time and care, either, but I do have to highlight B-15's moment of doubt, a scene I think Wunmi Mosaku absolutely killed (seriously, everyone needs to check out her other work, she is effort and talent personified.).

Besides that, if you ask me, no character in this show has any real development anyway, including Sylvie. It is an uneven display of screen-time because obviously she's a main over everyone else but, like, can it even be said that Sylvie particularly benefited from it? I don't really think so. As you said, she has no depth, she is just an empty girlboss fantasy, and the diversity in general in this show feels empty to me.

2) I didn't really even want more TVA foot soldiers to be women. It wouldn't be a diversity win so much as just more empty pandering and Marvel's typical (military) propaganda fuel.

Anyway, I'd like to highlight some youtube creators of color who make great in-depth videos on this issue:

Khadija Mbowe: Color-blind vs. Identity-conscious casting and examining Hamilton and Malcom & Marie

Town of Tawiah: Performative Diversity and Colorism in Film | Dear White People Review, My Wife & Kids,HTGAWM & More

Cheyenne Lin: GOOD Representation Matters | Colorism and Casting

There's obviously way more, but these videos are a good starting point to expand on this topic from people who know what they're talking about. I put a link to their videos while the link on their names will lead you to their respective channels.

3) Sylvie's whole appearance is bullshit from the get-go. They deliberately used comic book references on her to confuse us and make their dumbshit twist of: oh, see, she actually is a Loki variant!

I remember seeing a post essentially saying whoever thinks Sylvie is a Loki variant with 100% certainty is media illiterate lmao, so I guess it worked on some people.

So, you know, IMO, it doesn't matter that it doesn't make sense for her to wear Loki's signature colors and the iconic AoA head-wear, she just does because fuck you.

Also, "if ure hellbent on revenge why are u making stops at wallmart 2 get a box of hair bleach." lmaooo - she just wanted to be her own person, you know, visually, but only with her hair and nothing else :)

4) Sylvie so very clearly doesn't even like Loki all that much, certainly not as much as he likes her (she is a girlboss after all, "she's got shit to do!"). It would be funny if it wasn't tragic. I do feel bad for Larry from accounting :(

5) I'm guessing we don't know her nexus event because they kinda never bothered to define what it was and they don't care. Maybe Renslayer saying she doesn't remember her nexus event was supposed to be this moment of like cold truth, or an attempt to hurt Sylvie because she knows but won't tell her, or, you know... actually, who cares.

6) I think Mike has spoken to women and I think he's had plenty of intelligent and critical conversations at his level. Which is a relative zero to a generous one. Perhaps two on a good day.

Idk though, jokes aside, his writing on this series is childish and lazy, his view of Loki is boring and reductive, his original script he used for this show is absolute shit, and that's all I can really say for sure.

7) I wish. The show really is boring when it isn't actively infuriating. It still boggles my mind how this mess even happened. Like, I knew the show would be bad, but this bad? Man oh man.

#reply #goddamn shitshow #loki series critical #loki series negativity #loki series criticism

[trutrustories]

Okay, this will be probably long and with many errors (my english isn´t very good) But I saw several posts here on Lokius tag, talking about this ship as result of gay fetish, and about non existing chemistry and  how this ship doesn´t make sense etc… And from what I understood there is tagged Lokius because of genuine interest to understand others point of view, so here is mine: I wil try to explain where my frustration comes from, and how I feel about Lokius, Sylkie, AND representation + some other things which I saw here somewhere. But first of all: I like Sylvie, I don´t hate sylkie shipers, and after so many years reading fan fictions, I don´t mind selfcest – I read weirder things. I have some issues with this ship (the mainlythe fact that it isn´t Lokius), but  this is not one of them. Also, I am not about to tell anyone, they shouldn´t ship sylkie.Ship whatever. And I LOVED the show as a whole. 

I just want to defend my standpoint, that Lokius does make sense, people shipping it does make sense and whether it will happen or not, (I don´t have my hopes very high, and I learned to be very skeptical in this regard ) it is more than just about crack ship, or fetish. I´m honestly blown away that people are still surprised that this ship became a thing :D First of all, let´s look at some romantic story telling and tropes: I mean the way they introduced them in the first two episodes set the tone for all series and how the heck this isn´t romantic? Somehow there are all these romantic tropes existing in a show. They´re just there. Just chilling between Loki and Mobius and large portion of audience can´t even see them. (and some of those tropes were used for Sylki as well, so you could actually see them side by side)

For example: 1) traveling to the apocalypsis 2) breaking law/rules for the other 3) literally changing for the better thanks to the other 4) arguing like old married couple 5) saying secrets, personal things to the other 6) sharing glances, touches, visibly being happy around each other - in case of Loki happier then we´ve ever seen him before 7) being completely themselfs around each other 8) One knowing everything (even the worst) about other and still accepting him completely 9) teasing, being comfortable and domestic around each other 10) one being literally enthusiastic FAN of the other 11) Mobius defending Loki whenever he has a chance 12) Freaking amnesia trope that they pulled of in the end??? (It could be different Mobius, but point is he suddenly doesn´t know him - and Loki knows more, in contrast with the beggining) 13) the jealousy in ep4 14) Misunderstanding - when Mobius thought Loki betrayed him and Loki (thanks to Ravonna) thought Mobius betrayed him... 15) witnessing death of the other and being absolutely broken afterwards 16) The goodbye hug with romantic music in the backround 17) Saving life of the one (even when it means problems for the other ) - like Mobius saved Loki´s ass at least three times when he was trying to stop others from pruning him. 18) sharing deep conversations about meanings of life, freedom and how it would be fun to make some chaos and ride that fucking jet ski!!! 19) Inspiring the other 20) looking for each other (Mobius didn´t believe for a second, that Loki would die in the Void and the way how in the last minutes of the series Loki run through all places they were together when he was looking for Mobius... and I could go on. Point is, even if they are not planning to make Lokius canon, all these things are used on a daily basis to describe romance in media and they are used here. On top of that it´s just very poetic and cute, that this drama queen and powerful god of Asgard who looked down on people would find his match in someone, who is so quiet, ordinary on the first sight, and basically is just human from 90s, who loves jet skis. Mobius can´t even fight. But is highly inteligent and he also happen to be as good manipulator, such as Loki himself. - That´s why they work together so well. Mobius sees right through him and once Loki understands that, he drops his evil persona. Almost nobody expected to ship it for real. But story itself and chemistry between them just made it probably the most exciting duo in the whole MCU. And I mean it genuinely. Third episode, even though it was beautiful and Sophie was great in it (and is literally dipped in bisexual colors), is the least favorite for a reason. And that reason being, there is no interaction between Loki and Mobius whatsoever. Lot´s of people though that series slowed down a bit. Even when in fact there was more action, then when we watched Loki and Mobius working at the TVA.

(and let´s just talk about evil!Mobius narative for a bit and how some people say he is manipulative and toxic for Loki: show itself explore heavy themes and one of them is in Loki´s line: no one bad is ever truly bad and no one good is ever truly good. And as a theme in a fictional world, it is working as it should, for the  story. When Loki and Mobius meet, one of them just killed lots of innocent people and destroyed almost whole city. The other one is a part of fascist organization – and in the beginning of the series they both believe what they´re doing is right. They´re both bad, they´re both good, they´re both broken. And they are changing with the help of the other.) From all reactions I watched - and there was many of them, lots of people actually didn´t see dynamic between Loki and Sylvie as romantic in the third episode. So it´s not like Sylvie and Loki had unequivocally love story right from the start.

The only difference is that lots of people won´t see romantic tropes, when it comes to two men in a mainstream show – show that isn´t primarily about relationships and problems that queer people has to face. Because in super hero story and science fiction we have to warn audience, that they´re about to watch two man in love, right? At this point It´s just frustrating really. There were many M/M dynamics that used similar story line, as for example Lucifer, or X-files, or Bone collectors. -  But unlike those M/M pairings, no one was making fun of people for shipping main characters in these shows. But when it comes to two men suddenly you´ll see from all corners of the internet: “why can´t it be just platonic?” “There is not enough platonic relationships” “why can´t two man just be friends?” (They can and they almost ALWAYS are) and “if you think there something romantic between them, you´re delusional” “fetishist“ “And for god´s sake just let them be friends, Loki needs a friend more then....” oh wait, but Sylvie is allowed to kiss him. Sylvie doesn´t have to be just friend. (And I must say, that I love Sylvie, I liked most of the interactions between her and Loki and I think she is a great character ((I hope we learn more about her in the future)) it just doesn´t work for me as well as Loki´s dynamic with Mobius. Maybe partly because of chemistry between actors, partly because combination of characters and they´re personality and also because I had two whole episodes to fall in love with the pair before Sylvie was even introduced.)

First of all: people can be friends and then evolve into lovers. Not only it is common romantic trope, but it is also the most realistic one. And those relationships are usually strongest. second: If people want to see Loki in a platonic friendship so desperately, why can´t it be a woman for a change? They were acting like chaotic siblings for most of the episode three anyway. The age gap aspect is also very funny. Owen is only about 12 years older (That is not that much. But I imagine, some people would get uncomfortable. But If it was man and woman, most of them wouldn´t even blinked. But two men, that has to be somehow automatically son and father figure dynamic) And If you want to dive into age of an actual characters, then good luck with that in a series about gods, variants and time travel. Almost nobody cares about age gap between Lucifer and detective Decker, or Bella and Edward. On top of that, it was heavily implied, that Loki slept with older, silver haired guy in Ragnarok, so it´s not like he would have problem with that.

Different standards are projected in a way how we see romantic dynamics between fictional characters depends on what we are used to, how are we perceiving world around us, what we are expecting to see and ALSO, what we would like to see, that much is true.  When people are used to make no differences between heterosexual and homosexual pairing, then everything what happens to the characters is measured with the same meter. (Even though I experienced queerbaiting many times (( Once upon a time, Sherlock, Supernatural, Good Omens – the last one hopefully is not the case, but I guess we´ll see)) I also saw lots of lgbt shows like Queer as folks and Sense8.) And when we are not used to see it the same way, well… then it looks basically like that one comment under Castiel´s “I love you” scene on youtube, that said  “what a beautiful friendship”.

If we forget about all that chaotic mess behind the scenes (all those articles and contrary messages)  What is happening in a show between Loki and Mobius can be objectively considered romantic and what is happening between Loki and Sylvie in a series can be objectively considered platonic (until the kiss) and vice versa.  And then to see comments about how absurd it is to even think they have chemistry, and about gay fetish - it´s hard to swallow. I read posts about absurdity of a ship and how there is absolutely nothing that would suggests romance.  Well there is, actually. But whether creators are going to work with it or not, that´s something we can only speculate. They already made Loki officially bisexual. So why should it be so absurd to assume, that there is an actual possibility of romantic subplot between Loki and Mobius? Oh right… it´s Disney and Marvel we are talking about.

So on a subject of bisexuality: Bi people can date whoever they want.  But It is a little frustrating, when there is so many heterosexual pairings in the mcu and disney but when there is a promise of lgbt character (speaking of endgame) we get one line about date from a man we´ll never see again. And when there is a promise of lgbt representation you can´t even blink during movie, or you´ll miss it (Star wars, Beauty and the beast). And then Loki said “A bit of both, I suspect the same as you”. And I won´t lie, I was happy. And I think creators made biggest step yet with this one line (which is honestly terrible, that “a bit of both” coming from Loki of all people, is the biggest step forward.) But they played it VERY safe. Obviously, both Loki, and Sylvie are bisexuals, and in three episodes, we had Loki flirting with female flight attendant, Sylvie talking about her relationship with POSTMAN and then they fall for each other. So the only thing that suggests they are really as bi as Lamentis 1 is that little sentence, that can be edited out, or easily overheard. It´s the bare minimum. And I think that frustration with how freaking slowly we´re moving into some progress is understandable. From all those great M/M dynamics I talked about, those, that could make great love story, nothing happened, because too many people “don´t mind gays but don´t need to look at them” or are scared for their children. In 2021.

It is not a fetish to wish for a gay love story in superhero movies/series. (But anyway, I don´t think there is anything bad about it. Some men like to watch lesbian porn, some woman like to read gay porn. AO3 wouldn´t be were it is today, without people reading and writing slash :D – but that has little to do with what we actually see on tv)

I´m not delusional. As much, as I love these two characters together, I know how little chance it has.  I´m not delusional. I´m just in the future, old and tired, waiting hundreds of years for at least one of my OTP to finaly become a fucking canon.

#Lokius #loki series #LOKI AND MOBIUS #mobius m mobius #loki

[nincompoopydoo]

DEBRIS AND MISERY

SAME OLD LOKI ; PART 6 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.3k (oops) SUMMARY: You find yourself venturing deeper into finding the Loki variant on the loose with the help of Mobius and Loki while maintaining your temper around the God of mischief and fighting with your own demons. A/N: Downtime apparently lasted for more than a week. I had absolutely no motivation to write but I eventually came around. There’s alot going on in this. Please tell me what you think, what you love, hate and look forward to. Thank you so much for showing so much love to d&m. gif from this gifset by @sersi WARNINGS: Swearing. Imagery relating to death (i think?). You and Loki’s relationship fluctuating like the goddamn economy. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

Blue. Your flight suit is blue.

Your eyes sting with worry, ticking to a pair of hands buckling the straps that lay across your chest. A man secures it tightly, forcing your back against the cockpit chair. Your gaze drifts to the concentric steel rings of yellow, red, and white that stretch overhead and around you—being suspended within a 3-axis gimbal sends another churning sensation within your abdomen.

You hear a voice. It courses through the room and vibrates within your ears like fluttering echoes in a tunnel. It’s a man. He calls out your name from below.

“You ready?”

In your periphery, you see him, tall with slicked-back hair, standing with other men that adorn similar flight suits of blue. You nod, inhaling deeply as your hands reach for the controls. Suddenly, a metallic clang echoes through the room and the machine whirrs to life. The rings begin spinning in tandem, tossing your body in all directions. Your grip tightens around the controls, clicking with every push and pull as you struggle to analyze the spin. But, the machine spins faster.

Faster and faster and faster.

The machine continues to whirr. Your hands are still shifting the controls.

Faster and faster and faster.

Your eyes begin to droop, nausea taking hold of your body.

Faster and faster and faster.

You only hear your breaths; every inhale and exhale—they're loud.

Faster and faster and faster.

Too fast.

Stop.

...

Click. Click. Click.

Footsteps. Not the clicks of the controls. You hear them clicking against tile floors from afar. From darkness, your eyes meet the color brown, shiny and polished—it’s wooden. The sound of the vast building’s acoustics hum in tune with the occasional chatter and echoing thump. You recognize the ambiance and it comforts your hasty thoughts as your brain tries to wreck itself in comprehending your current surroundings.

It’s one of those dreams again. The ones that kept you awake at night since the Sakaar incident, as if reliving the memories of another life. It isn’t yours but the realism to it makes it so complex that your brain cannot even comprehend the experiences during these dreams that occur.

To see, touch, hear, smell, and taste. Do dreams exceed the limit of disconnection and logic? Are dreams to be so immersive that it feels more like a memory, an echo of the past?

Through the turmoil of parsing between what’s real and what’s not, a tap on your shoulder hauls you back to reality. You turn to see Mobius, looking ridiculously exhilarated. Behind him lingers an amused Loki, hands tugging into the pockets of his jacket. The analyst says your name with a tone of equal exuberance to his manner.

“I thought I’d find you here. Do you always sleep at the archives?”

You snort, seizing yourself up as you wipe your face with your palm in hopes of feeling slightly more awake and alive than you were before. “No. Sometimes, I sleep at my desk too.”

Exhausted and sarcastic. Typical you.

Mobius rounds the table to sit beside you, gesturing Loki to his previous spot before he got up and ran away from you without any explanation. He shoots you a smile, lips pressed together, almost hesitant to sit across from you. You watch him through narrowed eyes as you address him with folded arms. “And here you are, back here again.”

Loki cannot fight the growing grin upon his lips, knowing all too well that you're referring to how he led you into an unnecessary chase down the corridors of the TVA for the sake of his entertainment. Well, it was not unnecessary. Things were turning out to be a bore and with the sudden thought of a proposition to help with his case, it doesn’t mean he has to drag out the fun of irritating the hell out of everyone else.

And you are not a bore.

-

“Loki! Where the hell do you think you're going?!"

You’re outright screaming at him but his long legs only stride faster than yours could handle, slumber still clinging to your face like a thick, waxen mask. He’s so quick, weaving through tangerine hallways, skidding across the tiled floors.

He saunters down the hall with quick feet but doesn’t sprint, clever enough not to draw any attention.

He ought to answer you. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he flashes you a cheeky smile. He swears he saw flames burning in your eyes for a moment.

As you wind another corner, you already see him making one last quick dart through the elevator doors that slide open as it dings unceremoniously. Through your wide-eyed gaze, you signal him with eyes that carry a warning.

“Don’t you dare close that fucking door.” you snarl, voice booming from down the hallway and so does the clicking of the heels of your Oxford shoes as you march towards him like you’re on the hunt for prey.

Loki jams his finger onto the button to close the doors, unable to wipe off his grin. “Don’t you trust me?” is all he says to you, sending you a wink through the closing gap of the elevator doors as he raises his palm to wave you farewell.

-

You decided Loki wasn’t worth the time he has already taken from your assigned paperwork. So, you returned to your desk with a trace of bitterness in your tongue while attempting to suppress the regret for actually feeling sorry for Loki. Only because you know how it is like to be alone.

That’s the thing about Loki. He gets inside your head, makes you think that for once, he may be worth not pruning. He makes you think he is capable of change, capable of compassion. He makes you think he cares from the way he looks at you with those eyes that flicker the spark of hope in you. This Loki is the same old Loki.

Well, maybe the one in Sakaar had a good chance of earning your trust. But that’s gone now.

You shift in your seat, elbows now leaning against the edge of the table. “And to answer your question, no. I do not trust you. And I never will.”

Famous last words of the variant turned analyst.

Nobody trusts you either.

Except for the grey-haired analyst with the obsession for jet skis and you never understood why. Maybe, it’s because you’re the only one who is willing to put up with his ramblings.

Mobius eyes you and Loki’s interaction as the two of you seem to fall into the rhythm of making things even more complex than it appears. It's all part of his grand plan. Mobius knows you well enough to know you are possibly enjoying Loki's company no matter how much he irritates you. And Loki, it's clear how he admires you and how you constantly surprise him every time he crosses paths with you.

“What would I ever do without your trust?” the God sneers, each articulation of every word wrapped in mockery paired with dramatically placing his hand to his heart. Your eye twitches, the spitfire of your personality ready to fire back with a probable nasty insult. Yet, Mobius places his hand on your shoulder, while the other outstretched towards Loki as if trying to keep the two of you apart.

“Okay, okay. No need to get all riled up now. We only just had a breakthrough in the case, and I’m not letting you kill each other just yet.”

Your anger seems to immediately wash away, replaced by curiosity. You blink at your colleague. “Breakthrough?”

“Yes, and it was surprisingly Loki’s theory. Now—”

“Why do I smell...sulfur?”

You cut his sentence short as a strong whiff of a reeked scent began to descend upon you, billowing in the air. You inhale deeply, brows furrowing in concentration and confusion. An overpowering scent of a decaying body, faint but strong enough to seem out of the ordinary. The archives never smell rotten, always floor polish. Mobius and Loki share a look. Mobius is the one to speak up, attempting to distract you from your sudden strong sense of smell. “Sulfur? What, like when there’s a demonic manifestation? I mean, we are in the presence of Loki—”

“You went to Pompeii, didn’t you?”

In all of the time he has spent with Mobius who had a constant laid-back and confident nature to him, he has never seen him so red in the face. As the situation unfolds, he wonders why Mobius has made it a point to hide that information with so much eagerness which now has proved to be useless. You’re not only intelligent but also quick—only in terms of the mind rather than your physical capabilities.

You can hardly run, but your brain outshines everyone else he has met in the TVA.

Mobius is now waiting for the imminent chaos and mayhem you’re about to bring. You’re going to call him insane like every other time he has suggested an out-of-the-ordinary idea. Causing a scene is one of your talents. He has his hand on your shoulder again.

“You hate Pompeii, Mobius. Why the hell would bring him—Wait.” Your eyes are wide and blinking. “You went to Pompeii. Alone. I know that from the look on your faces. Which means no reset charge...No Nexus event.” You pause, pursing your lips. Then, you avert your gaze to Loki who watches you curiously. “Are you suggesting the variant is hiding in apocalypses?”

Mobius’ laugh comes off like a puff of air. He pats you on the back like a proud uncle. “Back on the game, Agent!”

Loki is slightly impressed. Only slightly.

“Okay, you two stay here. I’ll go get the files. Great work, you two.” Mobius gestures to the both of you with an outstretched index finger, grin so wide as he scurries off. Mobius loves a good case, especially when there’s a breakthrough. And with you finally familiarizing yourself with working together with Loki, everything is finally starting to look up.

The two of you end up finding each other’s gaze and for the first time, you smile at him. It’s small but genuine.

“You know you could have told me.”

“I would have, but you don’t trust me, remember?”

You hum, raising a brow. “And running away was supposed to gain my trust?”

Loki chuckles, eyes flicking to the table. “I never said anything about gaining your trust.”

Your smile grows wider, and Loki decides how he prefers you like this—relaxed and amused.

He oddly sees his mother in you. It’s the way you look at him. Like you know him.

Right, you have met him. Once.

“What was I like? The one you met at Sakaar.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his sudden question that hasn’t got to do with insinuating you.

“The same as you—barely tolerable,” you say tightly, heaving a sharp exhale. ”Just…a lot sadder.”

You hadn’t mentioned how he willingly helped escape your execution because a part of you still believes it all to be a lie. The TVA has your complete fidelity but ever since the Sakaar incident, your trust in the way the system works has been swayed. After years of being trapped in your mind, the question of whether your capabilities in logic have been damaged due to loneliness still begs. Judge Renslayer believes in your incompetence but you believe she hides a secret about the Time Keepers.

The three beings, creator of the TVA, personally convicted you as innocent, allowing you to maintain your job. Nothing of this makes sense.

Maybe Judge Renslayer lost all her faith in you, her second-best analyst because your Nexus event relates to Loki. The one variant that has been causing havoc to the Sacred Timeline. And this Loki, the one that seems to be very curious about your place in the TVA and the Time Keepers, is no different than the others.

You find yourself feeling an uncalled sense of sadness that dwells in your chest at the thought of leaving the only friendship you secretly wished to have maintained back at Sakaar. Before you let yourself fall into the abyss of melancholic wishful thinking, you swiftly direct the conversation elsewhere.

"I’m sorry Mobius referred to you as the devil,” you say coyly. “You really aren’t.”

Loki, who seems to catch on with the sarcastic tone of your voice, leans farther into his seat. “Really?”

A smirk returns to your face. “You're worse than the devil." He snorts, noticing the vague hint of crimson growing upon your cheeks and how your eyes seem to crinkle a little more than usual.

He finds himself swallowing under your stare, fiddling his fingers in an attempt to calm his sudden erratic heartbeat. A stutter under your now kind gaze—no one ever stares at him with a smile. "You are not the first to say that."

There’s another pause; Loki’s face is set with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You feel a pang of guilt in your chest in remembrance of how you’re not the first to have treated him the way you did. He’s dangerous but, there’s no reason for animosity. Yet, it all boils down to the lives he has willingly taken. It doesn’t differentiate him from the rest of the TVA.

Mysterious variant.

The devil is always in the details.

Strangely, the work of the devil may prove to be useful in times of cul-de-sacs as an idea comes to mind. “I think...I think I know where you’re at right now.” Your voice is light, distracted by your now running thoughts. You’re on your feet, chair squeaking as you push it back. Your pen is in your grasp and you wave it in the air, reflecting the gears that turn at high speed within your brain.

Frankly, you’re not making any sense. Loki furrows his brows, slowly standing. “What do you mean? I’m right here—"

“No. The other one. The variant. And it has to do with gum.”

You’re still not making sense and it’s clear that in your eyes, he is invisible. You’re the only one in that frenzied mind of yours.

“What?”

You don’t answer him, feet quickly bringing you down the passageway along the vast rows of shelves that stretch along with the floor’s pristine balcony of white and the two of you are back to playing chase and run. Only this time, the roles are reversed.

-

Mission Haven Hills: not successful.

Really not successful. Far from successful.

You witnessed the doom of bombing the Sacred Timeline, firsthand. Employees scramble at the controls as you watch the screen that looms over the control room. What was once a single line, running along with time has now grown like a tree with fruits of chaos, caused by Nexus events scattered across time and places.

You wished the dust would settle and this was all simply a dream but you realize this was his plan all along.

Bomb the timeline. Distract the TVA.

There is one thing you know about Loki. He is moved by revenge and resentment.

As if you possess some sort of telepsychic powers, a part of you feels that danger itself is within the vicinity of the TVA. The variant is here, you just know it.

You hope Mobius is okay.

Scurrying down the winding hallways, past the hurried time hunters, and past the time theaters, you find yourself heading towards the golden doors of the Time Keepers’ chambers. In a time of uncertainty, your gut is your only source of guidance.

At the end of the hallway, you see bodies on the ground, nearly lifeless—time hunters, either unarmed or batons missing. You plucked one of the sizzling batons from the ground as you cautiously stepped around the laying bodies. You clutch it tightly to calm the blood rushing to your head, pounding along with your heartbeat as you take on the venture into the foyer of the grand chambers with secrets not wanting to be unveiled.

You round the corner, following the wooden panels for walls laid along the entrance. The glowing end of the baton within your grasp reflects off the black porcelain tiles beneath your careful feet. You hear voices, grunts, and shouting as if in combat.

Then, you see them. Loki in his variant jacket and a woman with locks of blonde and streaks of black. She adorns a headpiece of golden horns—one broken off.

Isn't Loki supposed to be at Haven Hills?

Recognizing the presence of another, the two turn to you, daggers still held to each other's throats. Loki eyes you with wide eyes, a silent plea whether to help or stand down, you’re unsure. Your gaze shifts to the woman once more who watches you with an equal resemblance to the other.

Then, it hits you. You recognize the dark emerald cloak she wears. You know exactly who she is. You just never thought it would be a she.

“You!” Your exclamation is bitter, and it’s directed towards the woman who seems to be strangely expectant of your remark as if she already knows who you are. She is L1190, a Loki variant. The one who slashed you with the TVA’s baton, scaring your left cheek. The one who hauled you through the time door and left you stranded in Sakaar for thousands of years.

You know exactly what she has done. She knows what she has done.

“You did this to me!” you gesture to the scar on your left cheek, eyes fixated solely on her, nearing the two with caution. You’re angry. Very angry. All pent-up rage begging to be set free.

Before Loki could even perceive the current situation he landed in between two women who very much want him dead, you’re already swinging the baton to her face with full force but she blocks it with her sword but slightly staggers in her step. You glare at her. She seems a little surprised. In an instant, you take a step back and go for another strike to her rib, but she blocks you again, sliding away and dodging your hit by a mere second. You growl out of frustration, seething through your teeth, and without hesitation, you strike again. The fight goes on—strike, block, strike, dodge. And with every blow, your intensity escalates, each a little harder than the one before. Loki stands there, watching, speechless and frozen.

You strike again, the baton crackling less than an inch away from her face but she dodges just in time, swinging her sword across your face. It grazes your cheek, now a gash of crimson on top of your scar, and with the sudden blow of searing pain, you lose your balance.

The variant spins into a kick that sweeps your legs out from under, knocking you hard onto the ground. The baton rolls out from your grip. Your hand flies to the gash, trickling with blood.

“Hey!”

The brawl comes to a halt. You seize yourself up from the ground, back and head aching, turning to see Judge Renslayer accompanied by two hunters, batons held up in defense position. You were about to reach for your own that was a stretch away when suddenly, you felt a hand grip you by the collar, hauling you to your knees. Her sword held to your neck.

“Come any closer and I’ll kill her.”

“Go for it.”

Your eyes are wide in shock, all anger towards the variant now turning into this churning feeling of betrayal that resides within your abdomen. Judge Renslayer doesn’t look at you, focus fixated on the two variants—it’s like you’re not even there.

The three start to charge towards you and you involuntarily shut your eyes. Then, as quick as a rattlesnake, Loki grabs the tempad hung at her waist and sends the three of you falling through the ground.

That’s the thing about Loki. He gets inside your head, makes you think that for once, he may be worth not pruning. Now, with your back landing hard on top of him, all you could think about is wanting to strangle him to death.

TAGLIST:

@lareinedususpense

@poubxlle

@mystoragehatesme

@the-maroon-panda

@kashasenpai

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson imagine #loki imagine #loki series #loki spoilers #sylvie #mobius #ravonna renslayer

[abbatoirablaze]

Variant

Word Count: 463

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, backstabbing, angst

“Say it again,” Loki growled as he thrust impossibly deep into you. You moaned loudly, arching your back and meeting his thrusts. Your jaw stayed slack as he continued to rut into you. Your mind working overtime just to remember to breath, “say it again, pet!”

“I love you!” Loki smiled, hearing those three simple words. Your tight channel clenched around him, nails dragging down his back as you felt thick white ropes of his cum spill into you, “fuck. Loki! I love you!”

“That’s right pet,” he moaned. His magic spilled around the two of you, your body feeling the stimulation even more intensely as invisible hands rubbed furiously on your clit. His own real hands massaged your breasts from behind, rolling the pebbled peaks between his thumb and forefingers, “come apart on my cock. Let me feel that beautifully tight pussy grip me.”

Your eyes closed as he continued to rip you apart harshly, tearing your orgasm from you, only to lovingly walk you through it to the other side, “Loki…fuck…Loki I-“

“I love you, pet,” he moaned, his still hard cock kissing your cervix, “and I do not wish to leave you behind…please, say you’ll come with me.”

He pulled out of you slowly, and you turned yourself so that you could look into his forest green eyes. Your hand reached up and stroked his cheek, and he leaned lovingly into it, “Loki…but what of our home.”

“My home is with you, pet,” he sighed, shaking his head, “please just say you’ll come with me. I could not live with myself if I lost you.”

“I would follow you to the end of time, Loki.”

Loki stared at Kang and he smiled, “All you have to do is trust me, Loki…she still exists…just been tucked away!”

Loki backed away and stared at Sylvie, “we can’t kill him…she always told me she’d follow me to the end of time. WELL THIS IS IT! She’s here. Isn’t she?”

“No!” Sylvie growled, pointing her weapon at Kang, “she’s gone. Just like he is. We can’t believe him…”

“Sylvie…”

“NO LOKI!” she screamed, her tears on the edge of her cheeks, “why can’t you see this the way I do?”

“Because you can’t trust, and I’m the man who can’t be trusted,” Loki said sadly, backing away from Kang, “but I need you to trust me now, Sylvie…I need to find her. She’s pregnant with our child.”

“I’m sorry Loki,” she whispered, “it won’t work out. It never does.”

As Sylvie stabbed him, a blue portal appeared. Another Kang variant held you and your male counterpart. Loki’s eyes went wide as he started charging towards you. Sylvie screamed as a glow took them and they felt time splitting apart around them.

They had failed.

#loki (marvel) #marvel #marvel au #loki #mcu loki #mcu #loki laufesyon x reader #loki odinson #sylvie #loki series #loki show #sylvie laufeydottir